The Consorts
by Aria DC al Fine
Summary: Encountering another ruler's harem opened Yuuri's eyes to matters he was previously oblivious of; matters of the heart...especially his husband's and his. Eventual Yuuram.
1. Prologue

Maruma Fanfiction

Title: The Consorts

Synopsis: Encountering another ruler's harem opened Yuuri's eyes to matters he was previously oblivious to. Yuuram

A/N: Do I know the direction this fiction is taking? Nope. *Freaks out*

Prologue

"HEIKA!" Gunter's voice bounced off the walls of the hallways of Blood Pledge Castle. Said man was flying across said corridors in a flurry of white robes, lilac manes cascading his back, the ends of his hair swishing as he swerved around each corner. "HEIKA!" said voice held a frantic quality, as though a matter of great importance was perched at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill off his lips the moment the Mazoku laid his eyes on his darling Majesty.

Or may be it was just the overbearing, overdramatic perspective he tend to take on. Knowing Gunter, the latter seemed more likely.

"HEEEIIIKAAA!"

Yep, yep. An ordinary morning, an ordinary routine, with ordinary 'Bad-Omen' fowls screeching unwelcome, unpleasant tunes. Gunter collided against a piece of porcelain somewhere and Gwendal rested his head on his knuckle, another line marring the broad expanse of his temple, a sigh escaping his mouth.

"HEI-!" Gunter barely managed to stop himself from banging against Greta. The brown-haired girl yelped, burnt sienna eyes widening, as the Administrator screeched to a halt. "Your Highness!" the man gasped, bending down to catch his breath, "Did you happen to see His Majesty around?"

The princess looked aside, pondering. Greta was no longer a child; over the past few years, she had grown to an attractive teenager, her form filling out to curves, her hair resting on her shoulders in soft curls. In a year or two, thanks to Yuuri, who'd gotten himself engaged at fifteen and set a new record, suitors would flock to the Castle to woo her. Eventually, Greta decided to protect her foster father. "His Majesty is here," she replied.

"Your Highness," Gunter spoke exasperatedly, "You know I'm not talking about the Prince Consort," he cast a dismissive glance at Wolfram von Bielefield-Shibuya, who had been walking with his adoptive daughter after they finished breakfast. Aware that he had been written off, the blonde sneered and averted his gaze from Gunter.

Yuuri and Wolfram had gotten hitched a couple of years ago – the reception was an epic event to be put in history texts and remembered centuries to come, such grandness, the sheer number of nobles and diplomats from all over the Alliance – and Gunter was still displaying his disdain to most people who crossed his path, even to the person concerned. He was all smiles to Yuuri, though, the hypocrite.

As 'Queen', Wolfram should have the power to end the disrespectful treatment. But the Administrator behaved in front of the public and foreign politicians, so Wolfram let it slide. Besides, anyone in the Castle knew that the marriage was a mere formality, that the relationship between the King and the Prince Consort did not change a wink. That said matrimony hadn't even been consummated, and was unlikely to be consummated.

For all his theatrics and uncomfortable, unnecessarily closeness to the Maou, Gunter worked capably and there was never any doubt about his loyalty. Wolfram didn't wish to strain Yuuri's rapport with Gunter.

"The wimp is hiding in the Treasure Room," Wolfram sighed and gave away his husband's location, his emerald irises still trained on the dust ball below Shinou's portrait. Why was it there? He sighed inwardly. He would have to find the gossiping maids and tell them off. Wolfram was supposed to handle household matters flawlessly, dammit. They were his duties as Prince Consort. Now that he couldn't be a soldier anymore he should have had more time to devote to those.

Greta pouted at the Mazoku who was her father but didn't appear like one because he looked about three years older than her in appearance, before glaring at Gunter.

"Thank you, Wolfram," Gunter deliberately left out the blonde's title – again – and proceeded, ignoring the heated stare on his back. Before he disappeared down the passageway, though, he paused. "You may want to go to the study. There is an external affair to discuss. I have informed His Eminence, Gwendal and Conrad about it," the Mazoku spoke without facing his 'superior'.

"Thank you, Sir von Christ," Wolfram responded, equally detached, frowning at the dust bunny. He waited till the sound of Gunter's footsteps could no longer be heard before he turned to Greta. "I'm sorry, Greta," Wolfram smiled apologetically, "It seems like I can't teach you to paint today."

"It's all right," Greta's scowl transformed to a reassuring smile in the blink of an eye. She disliked the dispirited expression on the fire-wielder's face, and hated Gunter with vehemence to be the one to put it there. "I can go to Anissina-san or Grandma Cheri to pick up a dress for the Anniversary!" she grinned.

The word had the opposite effect. Wolfram attempted to curl his lips upwards, but something went wrong in the process and the smile was crooked, shards of a broken vase pieced back together with glue. "You do that," his hand reached out to pat her on the head, but halted midair.

'Daddy Wolfram?' Greta arched an eyebrow.

The Prince covered his slip with a wave of his hand before he presented her another feeble mockery of a smile and walked away.

* * *

Wolfram entered the study to find his brothers, the Great Sage and the man who resented him sitting around a rectangular mahogany table with his husband, who was sulking and moping like a spoilt kid two decades his junior, lower lip sticking out a mile away. Large obsidian eyes glared at him accusingly the moment his boots hit the carpet over the tiled floor. Unsettled by the intensity of the pitch-black darkness, Wolfram threw his gaze, masking it with a snort. "Only wimpy kings flee from their duties," he stated haughtily.

"Don't call me a wimp," Yuuri replied, a reflex just like one he gave each time Conrad addressed him 'Heika'. "It was just a breather! I can't work continuously!"

Wolfram snorted again. "Even after I halve your workload you still have something to complain?" As Prince Consort well versed with Shin Makoku's politics, Wolfram had the authority to sign documents pertaining internal affairs, such as licenses to open businesses and permission to build bridges and the like. External affairs such as ambassadorial relations with other nations, matters of Defense and Trade still had to be handed over to Yuuri, but Wolfram had lessened the piles of papers waiting on the King's desk considerably. The moment Yuuri learned that fact, he'd uttered, 'had I known about this I would have married earlier!' and earned a whack on the head.

Yuuri's cheeks reddened with anger and humiliation and before the squabble could escalate to an all-out skirmish that made Wolfram more upset, Gwendal cleared his throat. "Gunter," he sent the lilac-haired Mazoku a sharp look, "Would you start the briefing right now?"

"Of course," Gunter coughed and positioned himself next to Yuuri, splaying a few sheets of parchments over the smooth surface of the furniture for the King to read. "Heika, do you remember Yekaterina?"

At the double black's blank look, Wolfram fought the sigh bubbling to his lips. "A country sharing a border with Cavalcade. She's larger than Francia, but smaller than Conansia Svelera, and she specialises in farming and extraction of iron and steel. Yekaterina is known to make the best swords. The Emperor of Yekaterina, Kranos, had declined to join the Alliance when it was offered to him years ago," he elaborated.

"That was because Empress Pamellia hated Mazokus," Gunter added, "Emperor Kranos wasn't particularly opposed to the idea, but there are many human concubines in his harem that aren't cozy with that, and Emperor Kranos is known to be…"

"A womanizer," Wolfram spoke as Gunter finished his sentence with, "very fond of his wives." The blonde's emerald eyes blazed when Gunter shot him a look. "What? That's the truth!" he retorted. "I know that I'm not supposed to say that outside this room. Geez, do you take me as an idiot?"

"No, Wolfram," Conrad stepped in as Gwendal sighed and began to massage his head, "You're always so blatantly honest – which is not bad – but we're just worried-"

Taking a deep breath, the blonde opened his mouth, and everyone readied himself for a loud, lengthy whine when Yuuri committed a crime. "You mean, a ruler is allowed to have more than 1 wife?" he asked, innocent and almost jovial.

Three pairs of eyes shifted to Wolfram, who was frozen in place, his own eyes wide as saucers. The former Rutenberg warrior stretched his hand to touch his brother's shoulder, but his fingers could not even brush the silky fabric of Wolfram's shirt – after becoming the Prince Consort, he stopped donning his blue uniforms that were unbefitting for a King's husband and wore ensembles of black and white, various shades of green or blue, vests, frilly shirts, embroidered robes, which were gifts from other nations. (The black signified he was a member of the 27th Maou's Imperial family. As Prince Consort, he was also a trophy – there was a need for him to appear beautiful.) Before Conrad could comfort him, Wolfram answered, calmly, "Of course it's not unheard of. Mother had 3 husbands, didn't she?"

Yuuri was still oblivious. "Didn't Cheri-sama divorce before remarrying?" from his tone, one could tell his curiosity was genuine.

Wolfram shook his head. "Technically, Mother was still married to Dan Hiri when she gave birth to me. There wasn't a formal annulment of marriage, right?" he peered at his Little Big Brother, who nodded, reluctantly.

"The 25th Maou had umpteen wives and husbands, too," Wolfram continued, Conrad, Murata and Gwendal still eying him concernedly. 'Stop, Wolfram,' Conrad bit his lips, 'Just stop, please!' his thought wasn't delivered to the fire-wielder's head. Instead, the blonde prattled. "Usually, one is assigned to be the 'official wife'. The Queen or Prince Consort, the one with the power to sign certified papers and receive foreign guests. Other wives or husbands warm the King's bed and are entitled to private chambers and luxuries without having to handle household matters. That's how it is in Shin Makoku. I hear Yekaterina Emperors divide their concubines to several ranks, the higher the rank, the more involved they are in politics, the larger the part of the Castle they can command." Wolfram turned to Gunter for confirmation.

For once, Gunter didn't seem too happy about the Wagamama Pu's pain. "Yekaterina has many provinces, ruled by feudal lords. They will send their daughters to the Emperor to be his wives. Yekaterina's army is pretty renowned – the Kingdom doesn't have ambitions like Shimaron's, but has her own share of colonies who send maidens to be the Emperor's concubines as well. They act as ambassadors, in a sense-"

A vein popped on Gwendal's forehead. "Enough about the concubines," He barked, effectively stopping Gunter from droning on. "What business does Yekaterina wants with Shin Makoku?"

"Well…" Gunter pointed at the piece of paper right under the Maou's nose. "Empress Pamellia passed away, and Empress Haruhiko, the woman appointed to replace her, expressed her interest in being a part of the Alliance. She sent an Imperial Invitation to Heika to visit Muscovado, Yekaterina's capital."

The prospect of getting out of Shin Makoku to travel to an exotic country caused the beginning of a face-splitting grin to spread on Yuuri's face, but several other faces folded at that. "Wait a second," Wolfram frowned, "She's the one who's interested, she should be the one to visit Shin Makoku and come to the Blood Pledge Castle!"

Gwendal nodded in agreement. "She may intend to hold Heika hostage there." A couple of wrinkles were added to his massive collection. "We can't allow that."

"Come on!" The double black shot to his feet, "I've gone through more dangerous, more spontaneous trips and I'm still in one piece, am I not?"

Two pairs of eyes, steely cobalt and fiery green, glared at him, and if looks could kill Yuuri would have been six feet under. "We would prefer not to have our hearts in our mouths, Heika," Gwendal spoke, before Wolfram could bellow his opinions and hurt ears. "I wasn't particularly happy about those 'adventures' either," the eldest brother reminded his King sourly.

"About that…" Gunter put down an object on top of the paper nearest to Yuuri. It was a piece of jade, a Chinese Dragon finely engraved on the cuboids Yuuri could see light reflected off each scale. The Maou lifted it up and found that there was a signature incised on the flat bottom. The jade must be a stamp, of sort. "What is it?" the double black peered at his lavender eyed Advisor.

"For the Emperor to mobilise the Royal Army, he has to issue an order endorsed with the seal produced by this stamp. By sending this here, Yekaterina has proved her seriousness about joining the Alliance," Gunter answered solemnly. "This is a chance we have to seize."

Gwendal still seemed skeptical. "What if the Empress is lying? We don't know whether the jade is as important as she hypes it to be."

Gunter brought another piece of paper to their attention. "The Empress wishes for the Maou to visit her to bestow him a gift."

"So tell her to bring it here," Wolfram gave a dismissive gesture, "How huge can it possibly be, anyway?"

"It says…" Gunter read, "She would like to have the Maou choose his present."

Silence shrouded the place like a suffocating cloak, sucking the breath off everyone's lungs. Everyone, but the oblivious Yuuri, who understood not the implications of the words. "Oh! I wonder what it'll be! Can it be an oversized pet? Nothing as wild as dragons, I hope?"

Murata's dark eyes swept past the elegant scrawl of the Empress' penmanship and he spoke for the first time. "The Empress has invited you too, Prince Consort, as well as any number of bodyguards the Maou requires. Sending Yozak and Conrad with Shibuya should be enough, right? Besides…" he titled his head, hiding behind the glare of his spectacles again. "A group of Japanese Earthlings moved to Yekaterina centuries ago…they occupied one of the provinces, managed to get themselves exalted to feudal lords." At questioning glances, Murata gave his trademark vague smile, "It was one of my past lives. I was the son of one of the men who were miraculously transported to this world. That province pretty much preserves the Japanese culture and livelihood. The Empress…her name is Haruhiko. She may be from that province." His smile widened, "Yuuri has higher chances of achieving an understanding with her. I do feel this is a chance we must not miss."

Yuuri grinned before turning to the three half-brothers, large eyes pleading.

Conrad was the first to sidle with him. The brunet seldom opposed any of his godson's 'escapades', anyways.

Gwendal sighed. "Do whatever you want," he looked away, fingers twitching slightly.

Yuuri turned to the man he'd married. The blonde looked strangely preoccupied, the shade of his green of his eyes dulling. "Wolf?" a hint of concern crept into his voice.

Wolfram raised his hand to comb golden tresses away from his face. "I'll order Lasagna to pack your belongings and get your royal suits ready." He spun on his heels and headed for the door.

"Good!" Yuuri jogged to catch up with the blonde, "We should tell Greta too! She'll be happy to-"

"Yuuri," Wolfram spoke as Murata said, "Shibuya!" and two "Heika," could be heard simultaneously. Five pair of eyes assessed each other quickly before they reached a silent agreement. "Yuuri," Wolfram repeated, "I don't think it's a good idea to bring Greta to Yekaterina with us."

"B-But-!" Four heads nodded before the King could protest. Yuuri's brows furrowed. "Why?" he asked in puzzlement.

"You will find out," Murata remarked as the rest adjourned for the morning, "in time."

TBC

Since I may be using these terms a lot, I may have to explain them...

Wagamama Pu: Little Lord Brat, Selfish Loafer (tho I find that they're not really apt as translation. I'll stick to Wagamama Pu)

Heika: Your Majesty (Geika: I don't know whether it means Your Highness or Your Eminence so I'll stick to English. Ditto for Your Excellency)

Henachoko: wimp (Henachoko iuna: don't call me a wimp)

Nazukeoya: the person who named me


	2. The Arrival

A/N: I am overwhelmed by the number of reviews! I guess I'd been hanging around low-lying fandom like TBX/TRC and Yakitate! Japan for a long time I'd expected to receive 3 reviews maximum. Is it a sign that my writing has improved? Then again, I receive an average of 10 reviews per chapter when I was still writing Harry Potter fanfictions. Only one of you commented my language…(feeling insecure – THANKS, **Guppyvis**!) There are some readers who put this story in their favourite/alert list but did not review. I wonder why that is.

**Doctor Weebles**: Close enough. You'll see =D

**Jess Anime**: Well, Yuuri's not very sensitive to the pain of those close to him who're hiding their pain underneath an 'I'm-happy' facade. There is a fiction that describes that part of Yuuri…I forget the title (Perhaps any of you can remind me?)

**XEOHE**: That's the aim. I feel that Gunter is only in KKM for comic relief. Otherwise I dislike him (Sorry, Gunter's fans). The missing years will be written as flashbacks. Greta is 13 or 14…so Yuuri should be almost 20. Yes! Muscovado is a type of sugar. Yekaterina is from Yekaterinodar, former name of Krasnodar, a city in Russia. The present is not exactly a concubine. You'll see!

**Et All**: Thank you for the reviews, alerts and favourites!

Without further ado, I present you…

The Consorts

Chapter 1

Part 1 (A/N: Basically, this is a teaser)

Wolfram couldn't express how grateful he was that Yekaterina could be reached through a route that involved no rocking on the sea for days on end. He'd chased Yuuri across seven seas but any more and he would end up appearing like someone suffering from bulimia, gum, teeth, oesophagus and lips corroded by acidic fluids from his stomach – something a person whose job scope included 'sit and be pretty' could not afford.

On the other side of the Imperial Carriage sat His Majesty who was equally grateful that he would not spend days on Ao. He never revelled in the possession of aching backsides, his acclimatisation to riding horses notwithstanding.

Speaking about riding horses, Conrad and Yozak were outside performing Yuuri's dreaded task as the duo guided the wheeled platform and a small platoon of army behind it. The Maou recognised that a number of them were from Wolfram's former specialised squad. It had been dissolved, since their Commandeering Officer could no longer lead them, but most jumped at the first opportunity to protect the blonde when the audition for the Prince Consort's private bodyguards rolled around. Their loyalty to Wolfram was extremely fierce, Yuuri noted.

The party had set out of the Blood Pledge Castle at dawn several sunrises ago. Yuuri had been barely awake, and spent the first five hours of the journey in Dreamland, out cold on his back. He regained his consciousness to find the sun in his eyes, but upon blinking profusely, the double black realised the sundrenched gold in his sight was his husband's locks, the bony pillow underneath his head Wolfram's thighs. Yuuri shot up straight away and nearly banged his head against the blonde's chin, causing the vehicle to shake and rattle from the commotion.

Said blonde was reading right now, emerald eyes following the writings on the pages raptly. Wolfram had been prepared for the journey, bringing a stack of tomes along to kill time as well as recapping his knowledge of Yekaterina's customs. He attempted to conduct a crash course for Yuuri, but after ten minutes, the half-Mazoku's dark eyes had glazed over and Wolfram surrendered.

Yawning in boredom, Yuuri fiddled with the frills of the curtains at the side of the windows before he stared over the piece of glass and started noticing the changes of scenery. "Ooh!" he gasped in wonder and pointed at the row of trees along the side of the unpaved road, "This is the first time I've seen maple trees in this world!" as he spoke, crackled, sandpapery palm-shaped leaves fell to the ground, decorating said road in splashes of red, amber and sienna.

"Much like Cheri-sama, the Emperor who reigned in my previous lifetime pursued gardening as a pastime activity. He came out with several new species on his own, which adapt to Yekaterina's slightly cool and damp climate well and can easily be grown all over the nation," Murata Ken explained as he went over to Yuuri's side, humming. "They're indeed breathtaking, ne?"

Yuuri couldn't help but jump in surprise. "Why are you following us, again?" he grumbled at the other double black, "You aren't invited!" Sometimes, the Maou couldn't stand the Great Sage's teasing.

"Don't be so cold!" Murata slapped his friend on the back, "I may not be implicitly invited, but the Empress did write 'any number of protectors the Maou requires'. You may need my assistance." His expression took on a slightly perverted edge, though, and Yuuri snorted. "Assistance my arse! You want to see the beautiful concubines, right?"

Wolfram's knuckles whitened, nearly ripping the book apart with the strength of his grasp.

Murata sent him a look behind the sheen of his glasses, an art he'd perfected over the last few years, before filling the atmosphere with faked laughter, another act he'd honed. "Don't spill the beans, Shibuya!" he slapped the other Earthling on the back again.

"Geez, Murata! Stop abusing me!"

Muscovado, Yekaterina's capital was a beautiful city with strange architectural structures. It had clearly been planned, several distinctive landmarks with bulb-like roofs of swirling bright candy colours built at focal points of the civilisation and homes and shops growing around them naturally like mushrooms. Like Blood Pledge Castle, the Emperor's Residence Castle of Divine Protection was built at the peak of a hill at the centre of the capital. A trench was dug around the majestic palace, wide as a river, filled with trained predators: crocodiles and carnivores instead of guard dogs.

A messenger had been sent prior to the Maou's arrival. Several miles away from Muscovado's Gate, Yuuri was chased out of the Carriage to ride Ao, while Wolfram stayed inside, readying a pleasant mask. The Great Sage was ushered out, too. Letting a man who wasn't family sit with the Prince Consort when the King wasn't there could exude harmful impressions and run an entire gossip mill.

The moment Ao stepped into the city Yuuri and his troupe were warmly welcome by the citizens. It was like entering Shin Makoku for the first time all over again: people crowding around a cleared path, rainbow-coloured petals and confetti raining onto the fabric of his black suit and the cape of his blue robe, eyes peering at him curiously. There was a lack of smiles and cahoots, but the Empress of Yekaterina had worked hard to get her people to receive him.

Eventually, the party reached the outer entrance of the Castle of Divine Protection. The bridge was let down. They were guided through a wide arch, which had been beaten by rough weather and past confrontations, before facing another entrance. The door was resplendent, painted blood red with Oriental Dragons chiselled on the wooden surface and golden bolts surrounding the lithe, slender forms.

The sight that greeted Yuuri once said door was pushed open robbed his lungs off oxygen.

The vast expanse of the lawn that was normally used by soldiers to practice their drills was filled with an enormous amount of feminine figures, fabrics of various shades of colors swathing the curves closely, a garden filled with countless varieties of flowers. The women were bowing at him so Yuuri couldn't see their faces clearly (he bet they're beautiful) but from the whole array of hair alone – blonde, red, brown, blue, green (any colour but black), straight locks, waves, curls, ringlets, short, medium, long – the Maou couldn't imagine just how many females there were at that lawn. 'Are all of them concubines?' he pondered as he noticed a semblance of order from the chaos of colours, forms and garments: the headdresses. Half of the horde furthest away from him wore ribbons. A quarter after that band had pearls and yellowish flowers adorning their hairs. A thin band closest to him had silver and multiple gems – rubies, sapphires, emeralds and the like.

While Yuuri was gaping, jaws hanging open in awe, someone spoke to him, a melodious voice with a hint of strength underlying the fragility of the timbre. "Maou Heika?"

The King of Shin Makoku looked down to find a head bowed extremely near his side. The head was filled with golden stupendously crafted phoenixes and studs of diamonds embedded in lush russet strands so dark they were almost black. Some of the accessories tinkled with the wind, the chiming of bells. Dazzled by the music, Yuuri found his answer sounding absent, faraway even to his own ears. "Yes?"

The young woman looked up, and her eyes, large, single-lidded mismatched irises of brilliant green and burnt amber framed by long, delicate lashes, pulled the rug from under Yuuri even further. The Empress smiled, cherry lips curling slowly across that porcelain face, enrapturing the half-Mazoku. "Welcome to Yekaterina."

TBC


	3. The Banquet

**Tinker**: Hmm…thank you for that itty bit of knowledge! I may use it later…

**Nevynwatcher**: I did write that this is yuuram in the summary.

**Giureedi**: Yes, Murata had been in the carriage since they took off Blood Pledge. Yuuri just couldn't stop complaining about why Murata must go with them. Yuuri said, "Why are you following us, again?" The 'again' translates to 'remind me your pathetic excuse of a reason to flirt with girls – and be my rival'. BTW, thanks =D I love being descriptive.

Why such grand welcome? Shin Makoku is a mighty nation, is she not? The Empress realised that by expecting Yuuri to visit Muscovado, when Yekaterina was the one to plead for an alliance, she had asked too much and the welcome is a form of placation.

**Cerespallas**: What do you mean? The Emperor hadn't died – the previous Empress died, and the Emperor appointed a new Empress. Please refer to prologue.

**Chintz Chairs: **I'm sorry but I am against YuuEveryone. I perceive this aspect of him sluttish…though this must be because I don't like him much as a character. I prefer Wolfram (thus I also like MurataxWolfram and ConradxWolfram) because his is a personality I can relate to, a paradox of selfishness and loyalty-induced-selflessness. Yuuri's aggressiveness and kindness are two parts of his I struggle to bring together. In fact, I find Yuuri hard to pen down. That's the reason why I don't change Yuuri much even though he is older and should, by right, mature. I can't predict how Yuuri will change.

**Et All**: Again, thanks for the reviews! I'll try not to disappoint you =D

Disclaimer (I forgot to type this!): KKM is NOT mine but Takabayashi Tomo-sensei's and Matsumoto Temari-sensei's! If KKM were mine Yuuri wouldn't be so sluttish…

Chapter 1

Part 2

Yuuri followed the maid in front of him nervously, jumping as candle-flames flickered and shadows danced on concrete walls and paintings of deceased Emperors. From time to time, the bubble-gum mint-green-haired girl whose hair was whooped to a ponytail turned to look at him and smiled to reassure him. There was none of the unprofessional gossipy gleam in her eyes – so unlike the servants at Blood Pledge…

After the breathtaking welcoming ceremony, the Empress had led the guests from Shin Makoku to a complex in the East Wing, their quarters for the duration of the visit, and ordered the staff to tend to their needs. "Please do not hesitate to inform me if anything is not up to your satisfaction," the beautiful woman smiled, eyes twinkling, before excusing herself humbly.

There was a circular common room lavished with dark maroon cushions and homey couches around a circular wooden table with a marble fireplace nearby. A large painting was hung above it, the subject a gruff bearded man surrounded by several gorgeous women. When a question slipped out of Yuuri's ignorant lips, Yozak answered, absentmindedly, that said man was the 103rd Emperor of Yekaterina (human aged way more quickly than Mazoku). Beauty was abundant. Plain, unadorned surfaces were deliberate and allowed for the sole purpose of preventing decoration overkill.

Yuuri chose to occupy one of the rooms whose doors opened to the common room – there were five rooms around the lounge – with Wolfram and Murata taking the rooms to his left, Conrad and Yozak to his right, while the soldiers the Maou brought were to settle in a barrack nearby.

The Maou had expected his husband to order the servant carrying that humongous casket he called luggage to plop it in Yuuri's transient bedroom, and was pretty taken aback when Wolfram directed that servant to the neighbouring room. The blonde's brilliant eyes caught his own obsidian pools when his mouth was about to open, but whatever the double black was going to ask was cut off when Wolfram fussed over his belongings (deliberately).

The servants assigned to the troupe showed them the Jacuzzi – it was nearly as big as the one Yuuri had in his own private bathroom – and the assortment of shampoos and soaps. The King was inspecting the Oriental Dragons coiled around the brass taps when a middle-aged grey haired man with a pleasant disposition, the Butler of the East Wing, bowed. "The Empress wishes you a good rest. Dinner will be served in the Hall at 600 pm."

Yuuri checked his watch. There were several hours left. Aching for a soft mattress to stretch his legs and longing for hours of interrupted slumber he could scarcely have even in Blood Pledge (Damn Wolfram and his sleeping habits!) Yuuri decided it was time for forty winks.

* * *

The ruler of the Great Demon Kingdom woke up to the sight of a flawless vermilion globe disappearing to the horizon. For a minute, Yuuri stared at the amethyst and amber swirling against the fluff of the clouds, before he snapped in awareness and scrambled for his watch, knocking a few objects off the dresser. "555 PM!?" he screeched, eyes wide as saucers.

Blasphemies of dual languages escaped his lips fluently as he rummaged through his baggage, thanking the Gods that his clothing was very, very standard – black, black, and black, with slight variations to the collar and sleeves. Pinning his robe to his shoulder as he snatched the comb, Yuuri grumbled, legs striding to the door of his bedroom. "Why didn't anyone wake me up?"

"Maou Heika," the servants stationed outside the room bowed as the royalty passed. One maid cocked her head as Yuuri looked around in bewilderment. "Maou Heika, is there anything you need?" she took the initiative to ask.

Flustered, the half-Mazoku blurted unthinkingly, "Dinner…the Hall…Empress Haruhiko-" he blushed at his incoherent sentence.

The maid stared at him unblinkingly. If she was withholding a chuckle, Yuuri couldn't tell. The maids at Blood Castle would have giggled by this point. "His Highness the Prince Consort said that if Maou Heika does not wish to attend the official dinner, he should not worry as His Highness will notify Her Majesty that Maou Heika is unwell." Before Yuuri could utter his protest, the maid continued, "If Maou Heika wishes otherwise, I will be glad to point the way to the Hall."

"Yes, please," Yuuri couldn't help but notice that the attendants of the Castle of Divine Protection were very well-trained. They could offer their services before he let his wants known, respond politely and appropriately to him (no matter how laughable his acts could be), and ask no unnecessary questions. Even now, the maid was matching her pace with his. How could he get the helpers home be an itty bit of those?

"This is the Hall," she announced. There was a young boy standing at her side, his hand clasped around the handle of a double door, the cylindrical precious metal attached to the wood vertically. The maid waited as Yuuri inhaled a deep breath to ready himself before nodding to her.

The maid talked to the boy, who opened the door and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "His Majesty Maou Heika has arrived!"

Any conversation the occupants of the Hall had had, any gesture and action stopped. Yuuri found himself facing umpteen pairs of eyes glued to his form as he stepped into the impressive, spacious room, humongous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, rainbows reflected on the precisely cut crystals and smooth marble tiles that weren't covered by a layer of carpet of finest quality.

The dining table was something Yuuri'd only the chance to see in Victorian movies: a tapered, elongated piece of furniture where it was impossible for people sitting at the two ends to talk to each other. In this case, the extreme ends were empty: there was no chair plonked to the one nearest to him and the high-backed seat at the other end was unoccupied. On both sides of the table sat the best-looking women he'd seen – scores of well-dressed distinctive beauties with slim waists – but the similarity was exhausted there. Some had assets as ample as Lady Cheri's, some were petite and delicate as dolls, some had large double-lidded bright eyes, some had unique narrow slits, some were fair, some with skin that appeared tasty as chocolate…Yuuri felt like he was facing Miss Universe nominees…

He stared back at them, awkward as a stone, any apology he'd prepared for his tardiness dying a quite death. The uneasy silence disintegrated when one of the women stood and approached him. "Maou Heika," Empress Haruhiko bowed as she reached his side and smiled, "The appetiser had just been served without you…I'm surprised – pleasantly, of course – that you decide to attend dinner. His Highness the Prince Consort said you were exhausted by the journey…" she trailed off.

"Don't worry!" Yuuri chirped his reply, and grinned, "I had a nap and it re-energised me!" He patted himself on his puffed-up chest.

"I'm glad to hear that," the dark-haired woman lifted a hand, "please, Heika," she directed Yuuri to the previously vacant high-backed seat aforementioned above, the smile a permanent fixture on her oval face as she settled into a chair adjacent to him. Conrad and Yozak sat next to her, followed by a row of attractive women.

As soon as his butt touched the padding of his seat, a plate of delectable food – peeled prawns and glass noodle covered by opaque auburn gravy – was placed under his nose, inviting him with mouth-watering scents. Despite the fact that Yuuri felt ravenous, his attention wasn't on the dish but on his hostess.

Empress Haruhiko appeared even more exquisite that evening. Half of her dark mahogany hair was styled to chignons, held together by golden chrysanthemum-shaped ornaments that had chips of diamond dangling from tiny chains, grazing her ears as her head moved. Another half rested on her lithe back in soft curls. Her gown looked something out of Earth's Japan's runway scenes – the upper half had the seams of a kimono, with stiff collars and trailing sleeves, umber maple leaves embroidered on rich green fabric, parted low to show a peek of lacy lingerie. Instead of an obi, a piece brown corset-like contraption was tied around her middle, the same maples-on-green fabric flaring under it till the layers fell around her heels gracefully, emphasising her curves. A pendant rested above her breast, a large heart-shaped diamond, accentuating her cleavage.

There was elegance to Empress Haruhiko's beauty, an exquisiteness that attracted attention naturally. Nothing as eye-catching as Lady Cheri but Haruhiko wore charisma like a suit.

The one feature that stood out most, however, was her eyes. Yuuri couldn't help but find the paradox of her mismatched-coloured irises both disconcerting and fascinating.

"You're pretty," Yuuri's mouth ran off as he gazed at Yekaterina's Queen. He blushed as soon as the words were out.

"Why, thank you," her smile widened as she turned away from Yuuri to the person sitting opposite to her. "I'd say, His Highness is the one worthy of that praise, Your Majesty," she complimented Wolfram.

Yuuri followed her line of sight and realised that Wolfram was dressed to the nines as well. His lean figure was swathed in a form-fitting knee-length velvet robe, the shade of green of the dark turquoise complementing his eyes while the shade of blue made his milky complexion shine. A pattern of ivies were sewn to the collar and sleeves of the robe with pale gold threads. The robe splayed below the waist, softening flat planes and harsh angles with imagined curves, and the frills lining the collar and sleeves of his white shirt, which peeked out of the hems of the robe, elicited Wolfram's femininity. The last unexpected, but not unwelcome, touch was one small viridian pearl earring embedded in each of Wolfram's earlobes.

The Empress sighed in awe and continued, "His Highness truly deserves having a flower named 'Uruwashiku Wolfram'."

The knuckles that were tightened around the stem of his glass wine loosened as the blonde's large, delicate emerald eyes sought hers quickly. Murata, who had been carousing with the gorgeous pink-haired curvy beau beside him from his position next to the Prince Consort, observed the exchange. The royal spouses seemed to engage, gauging, assessing each other before Wolfram plastered a smile on his own face. "You're being modest, Your Majesty," he remarked courteously.

Obviously, whatever transpired between the two flew over Yuuri's pitch black head.

Empress Haruhiko turned to Yuuri. "I am most sorry, Your Majesty." Her tone was apologetic, her smile contracting an inch, "But Emperor Kranos is occupied with some matters and is unable to attend dinner. I will let you know when he's available as soon as possible, Your Majesty."

"All right," Yuuri replied light-heartedly. He hated sombre negotiations and wanted this one to be as amiable as it could be. "You know what? You should call me Yuuri."

Wolfram had to remind himself that the stem of the glass he was holding was flimsy. Yozak's hand shot out to grab a cup of water.

The Empress tilted her head, the smile resurfacing. "Your Majesty's full name is Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Furi, isn't it? Is 'Yuuri' your given name?" she spoke curiously.

"Well…" Yuuri scratched his head and laughed, "My name is Shibuya Yuuri. 'Harajuku Furi' is like…an addition…"

"Hmm…" the woman's head was tilted even further, "I heard that you're from Earth, Yuuri-sama."

Yuuri was overjoyed to be able to relate to the suffix. "So your ancestors were really Earthlings?" So far, the young King's only link to the other world was Conrad. Yuuri was ecstatic at the prospect of having another friend who could listen to him without staring at him as though he'd grown a second head.

Haruhiko nodded, the amber of her eyes brightening while her green iris was shadowed. Yuuri couldn't get his eyes away. Her answer was almost unheeded. "The Elders came to Yekaterina more than a century ago. The story was passed down the generation. They came after an era called the Meiji Restoration…"

"Bakumatsu!" Yuuri's response sounded gibberish to the native inhabitants of that world. "End of Tokugawa!"

The ghost of a frown marred Haruhiko's otherwise smooth temple as she was trying to recall her old folk's tales. "Something of the sort…my ancestor was a member of an association called 'Shinsen Gumi'."

Obsidian eyes widened. "That Shinshen Gumi?" it was Murata who repeated the term loudly. "Wow, fancy that!" When Haruhiko averted her attention to him, the bespectacled boy blinked. "That was rude of me to interrupt."

"Oh, no, Daikenja-sama," the mismatched-eyed woman assured him, "I heard that you're from Earth as well."

"Yes. My name, in case you're wondering, is Murata Ken," the Great Sage flirted with the Empress and tried to clean his friend's mess with one action. Killing two birds with a stone was the proverb. "You should call me Ken, too."

"You're very friendly, Ken-sama." Yes, an idle chatter was superb for dinner. Nothing too serious to stomach, Murata pondered. Now, to keep it going…

"How were your ancestors able to reach this world?" Yuuri asked inquisitively. "I don't think it's easy…Shinou, the Original King of Shin Makoku, utilised his maryouku to transport me back and forth, but is there a force equivalent to maryou-"

"Haruhiko-sama!" Murata interrupted quickly. Why did Yuuri have to make things harder for the Great Sage? This was the reason he had to tag along. "Haruhiko is your surname, right? May I know your given name?" the double black prayed fervently that this would hold his fellow Earthling's interest and keep him from poking his nose in unwanted territories.

"But, of course," the Empress looked amused. Damn it, she was aware of Murata's steering the tête-à-tête. "My name is Haruhiko Yura."

Yuuri blinked. "Isn't 'Yura' a guy's name?"

Murata whacked himself mentally. He had jumped out of the pan to the fire.

Yozak spluttered. Conrad hid his coughs with his palm. Wolfram trembled from self-restraint. Just as well, because frankly, the blonde wouldn't know whether he would slap his husband on the head first, yell in his ear or reach for his sword to behead him on the spot. The stupid tactless WIMP!!

The dinner table had gone deadly quiet. Graveyard kind of silence one could hear a spork drop. The servants considered flying down to the kitchen to get the next course sent up RIGHT NOW.

Again, the Empress dissolved the butter-melting tension with a smile that rivalled said butter in silkiness. "That must have been the reason why I had been so tomboyish in my earlier years!" she spoke amusedly.

"Really?" Murata latched on to his – their, really – salvation. "I can't tell! Yura-san is so refined! Oh, hey, Shibuya!" he leaned on the table with his elbows on the wooden surface. "Yuuri and Yura. Your names match! What a coincidence!"

"Indeed!" Yozak feigned his surprise before swiping the rest of the content of his plate, perching the platter with such an angle that made the emptiness palpable.

"Indeed," the Empress repeated before increasing the volume of her voice, "shall we have the next course?"

While the servants were replacing the dishes swiftly, one of the women from the middle of the row at Yuuri's left addressed the leader of the household. "Empress Haruhiko," the maroon-eyed woman raised herself slightly and bent her head. Her shoulder-length curly caramel locks were fastened to one side, rubies adorning the hair band. The colour of the gems matched that of the brocades of her gown. Though high-necked, the material pressed on her body like a layer of second skin, seductive and sensuous.

"Lady Aurora," Yura indicated that she was listening.

The brunette nodded again. "I am wondering if we may commence with the entertainment."

A bustle of chatter broke at the dining table, the women whispering to themselves and sending Lady Aurora looks that bordered on dripping with…malice?

"Ah, of course," the noise died as soon as the Empress talked. "Get the misses into the Hall."

As Lady Aurora gestured to the servants standing next to the door, the mismatch-eyed woman turned to Yuuri. "Lady Aurora has kindly volunteered to stage a performance dedicated to the guests from Shin Makoku. Please sit back and enjoy."

About a dozen maidens entered the hall, clothed in matching peach knee-length dresses, hair of various colours and length tied away from their faces and neck with complementary-coloured ribbons. The lower half of the dress was slightly translucent and layered to stripes. They made their way quietly to the raised platform at one corner of the room as servants set up instruments around the space. The dinners arranged themselves so they could view the presentation.

The musicians readied themselves as the maidens chose a position on the stage and stood still. Lady Aurora walked to the centre and cleared her throat, the audience waiting anticipatorily.

Drumbeats started, followed by tinkling of diverse decibels. Lady Aurora sung a high-pitched note delivered evenly, clear as water. Melodious notes combined to a song of fire and storm, of being reincarnated for someone. The ensemble of young maidens moved, limbs elegant as fluid, as they lifted a fan in each hand and spread them out, feathery white splashed with crimson. The dancers handled their props with skills and accuracy, intense eyes peering over the fans to stare at the guests as formations changed, hips swaying.

(A/N: Imagine a scene from Ayumi Hamasaki's PV titled GREEN)

The Empress hummed as she watched. "Lady Aurora trained the misses well. I should commend her," Yura commented.

"The misses?" Yuuri echoed as Yozak voiced out his observation. "They are a bit young, aren't they? The dancers, I mean. Compared to the ladies eating here," the ginger-haired spy gestured at the dining table. "Practically teenagers; just hit their puberties."

Empress Haruhiko's smile widened slightly. The woman was never without a smile; Yozak just formed labels for the ones she had. She was wearing a 'polite' smile now. "I'm sure you've heard bits and pieces about the system utilised in the Emperors of Yekaterina's harem…

"There are three ranks. Most maidens enter as Ladies of Grand Harmonies, but there may be exceptions, mostly due to the parent's standing or the Emperor's evaluations. They are addresses with 'Ms' before their names, so they are referred to as the 'misses'."

"They can only decorate their hair with ribbons, I presume?" Murata spoke, winking as one of the maidens sent him a look. Part of her cheeks that could be seen over the fans was tinged pink.

"That's right," Yura continued, "Ladies of Grand Harmonies can be elevated to Ladies of Absolute Purity or Ladies of Superiority, the latter higher in the hierarchy. Ladies of Absolute Purity are addressed with 'Little Lady' before their names and are given pearls and silvers in the initiation ceremony, while Ladies of Superiority receive precious stones.

"Several factors are considered before a maiden can be 'promoted'. The Emperor's verdicts come into play often. If a concubine bears male heirs, her status will be raised to one of Lady of Superiority straight away."

"A bit like the military, isn't it?" Wolfram couldn't help but muse. "Insignias to indicate ranks, being born to a position, a raise after a victory…. How about involvement in politics? Am I right to assume-" he crashed to a halt abruptly. He had yet to master his mouth. He had been a soldier before he was a diplomat, more at ease with swords than white lies.

"His Highness needs not hesitate to ask," the Empress exercised a reassuring tone, "The diners here are mostly Ladies of Superiority and select Ladies of Absolute Purity. Higher-ranked concubines are employed to receive foreign representatives as well."

The audience clapped as soon as the performance ended, Yuuri more enthusiastically so. He had been entirely entranced by the dance. The banquet proceeded; introductions and frivolous conversations filling the air as the Mazokus were treated to finest cuisine whose origins varied diversely across Yekaterina's lands. Agricultural produce was one of Yekaterina's sources of income, and the people boasted about the quality of raw vegetables and fruits. High-quality sugar of the same name could be harvested off Muscovado's vicinity.

Wolfram was restraining himself from requesting for seconds of Muscovado's traditional deserts that were made of said sugar – his sweet tooth was one of his vices, often overshadowed by his temper – and Murata was blathering tales tipsily. Conrad and the Prince Consort shared a look, an unvoiced agreement to adjourn. The blonde turned to the beautiful noble in front of him. "Her Majesty-"

"Oh!" the Empress interrupted him, pasting an apologetic smile at Wolfram's surprise, "I can't believe I nearly forget about the Gift."

Yuuri, who almost keeled over (again) from drowsiness, straightened himself with interest.

Before the dark-haired fair lady could announce the present, Wolfram attempted to decline. "Such kindness is unnecessary, Her Majesty."

"But I insist, His Highness," she twirled a lock of her hair, asserting herself with her asymmetric gaze that still threw Wolfram off balance. The left side of her cherry lips inched up without transforming the smile to a smirk. "Besides, His Majesty seems excited about it," her eyes shifted to the Maou.

Yuuri had the audacity to blush. He grinned and scratched the back of his head. "Thank you very much! I hope it's not an Oriental Dragon or other oversized pets…?"

Wolfram itched to whack his husband. The King really had no subtlety!

"No worries!" Haruhiko chuckled, "It is nothing of the sort…though I imagine you will have to take care of it for several years… It is-" she was cut off by a hiccough. Pale cheeks reddening slightly, she reached out for wine before wiping her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Don't mention it," Yuuri stated rather hurriedly.

Conrad, Murata and Yozak shared concerned looks as Wolfram steeled himself.

Haruhiko Yura, second Empress of the 151st Emperor of Yekaterina, smiled again. "The Gift…it is…a baby."

TBC (Because I'm evil?)

A/N: I'm trying to combine aspects of 15th century Qing dynasty's court and western customs together…If you've seen in TV when someone of title comes to a place his or her arrival is always announced. I hope the atmosphere comes across?

Another thing – I'll stick to Uruwashiku Wolfram instead of 'Beautiful Wolfram' because I read KKM fanfictions first before finally watching snippets of the anime, so until recently I'd been thinking Beautiful Wolfram must be Utsukushii Wolfram or Kirei na Wolfram or something like that. I find that I like Uruwashiku Wolfram – it sounds more elegant.


	4. The not so amiable Discussions

**spiralsecrets**: yes *smiles* but let us not degrade other otps. We know the rule: 'your ship, my ship'. I'm also curious about your assessment of my fanfiction.

**cridget101**: I'm very flattered by your review…personally I feel that my personalisations of characters are slightly shallow…considering I haven't watched the whole series…I'm afraid of exploring them too deeply. I show one side of them too much…like Murata as an omniscient entity…and Yuuri as a naïve, insensitive dork…plastering labels on them, see. But the fanfiction just started so I may redeem myself *smiles*

**Shain-The-Otaku-of Ireland**: This must be the first fanfiction of mine you've read. Because I'm (in)famous for torturing characters I love. And I've established that I love Wolfram. So poor Wolfram has ample in store for him. Setting Wolfram for heartbreak? As far as I know, Wolfram's heart was already broken. To shards. Am I going to break the shards to grains? Yes, till they can barely be put back together.

No one is ignorant. Murata, Conrad and Gwendal had shared troubled looks. But Wolfram may not appreciate their attempt at 'intervention' (which Wolfram perceives as 'interference'). There are limited ways this situation can be resolved by: 1. Get Yuuri to love Wolfram, 2. Get Wolfram to not love Yuuri. Both are against the principle of free will.

Besides, Wolfram signed up for his sufferings. You'll see what I mean. (I'm sorry if I sound a bit cranky. I specialise in angst…without it, my fanfiction is but a bland meal with neither spices nor meat. I want readers to know this story is by no means light-hearted, even though a happy Yuuram ending is promised.)

**XEOHE**: I read that you hate female OCs…well, I hope you won't hate Yura…Uh, scratch that. You will hate her.

**Et All**: Thanks for the review! You drive me to write faster! I've wanted to upload this since 2 days ago...but ff. net had been having this glitch...

Chapter 1

Part 3

"The Gift…it is…a baby."

The Mazokus – half-blooded or otherwise – blinked.

For a number of seconds, there was a flawless pocket of stillness, the calm before the storm.

Then hell broke loose.

Third son of the 26th Maou and spouse of the 27th Maou choked on his drink, barely managing not to splutter – that would be undignified and unbecoming. Wolfram was grateful, though. He was sure that if his mouth wasn't occupied, he would most probably utter offensive expletives instead, and who knows what wars such a crime could trigger. Yozak, who wasn't as fortunate, almost bit his tongue off in his effort to prevent profanities from escaping his mouth.(1)

Conrad and Murata didn't respond. The Great Sage concealed his calculating glance under the glare of his spectacles – again. The brown-haired warrior just had no idea how to react to such a bizarre proposal.

"WHAT?" Yuuri yelped, summing up the shock audibly in one loud ineloquent, but extremely apt, word.

"A baby," Empress Haruhiko wasn't undeterred. Her countenance did not budge any fraction of an inch, her confidence resolute. "I know this is really belated, but for Your Majesty and His Highness's nuptial, I'd like to present an heir for Shin Makoku."

Things clicked into place. The uncertainty in Conrad's smile dissolved, only to transform to tautness at the small of his spine. Yozak reached out for a glass of wine to soothe his wounded tongue, astute blue eyes closing.

Wolfram's lids drooped, edges of silvery lashes fluttering against the patch of skin above his cheekbones as he brought his hands together, mindful to keep his elbows off the table as he brooded. The lack of colours of his knuckles was the sole sign of his inner turmoil. The blonde thanked Shinou his pale complexion camouflaged the betrayer that belayed his distress.

"Wait!" Glancing at the four quickly, Yuuri hated to be the only one out of the loop. "What do you mean, a baby? You'd like to…?" the pitch of his voice rose, disapproval apparent in his tone.

"It does not have to be me," Empress Haruhiko replied. If she was affronted by the King of the Great Demon Kingdom's denunciation it was not shown on her visage. Rather similar to Gwendal in this aspect, Yura just fixed on a pleasant mien instead of the frown the Administrator shielded himself with. "You may choose," she extended her hand and gestured at the selection of attractive women in the Hall, "any one of them to bear your heir, Your Majesty Yuuri-sama."

Umpteen pairs of eyes turned to him again, staring at him provocatively, passionate and promising, steamy and sensual. For the first time that night, Yuuri saw those concubines in a whole new light.

Before the double black could assess what it was he should feel, knowing that he could bed anyone of them, of his choice, Wolfram placed his hands on his lap, away from view and making himself less vulnerable. "Just an heir? Not his or her mother, too?" the Prince Consort arched a thin, flaxen eyebrow as he leaned back on his seat.

'What?' Yuuri's head snapped to his husband, whatever lust momentarily clouding his mind disintegrated as though he had been doused with ice water. 'What are you playing at, Wolfram? Why aren't you expressing your objections?'

The Empress turned to the other royal spouse of equal rank. "I've heard that His Highness dislikes polygamy. An heir seems a wiser gift…but, of course," she hastened to bend to her guest's will, "if Your Majesty and His Highness wish to bring the mother to Shin Makoku, I shall raise the issue to Emperor Kranos. He will most probably agree, but certain concubines who are Kranos Heika's favourite will definitely be out of bounds."

Wolfram soothed the lines around his mouth. He forced himself to stay aloof, professional. "How about the rest of the concubines who do not attend the banquet?"

"The Ladies of Absolute Purity and Ladies of Grand Harmony are available, too," Yura nodded amiably, her accessories swaying with each movement of her head, "should you choose them."

Yuuri hated that the Empress and his husband was talking of those females as though they were not human beings, with emotions and preferences and free will. Who on Shin Makoku would be willing to be parted from her baby? What if the mother wasn't willing to go to Shin Makoku? How would she feel, leaving the rest of her family and her homeland?

Sensing that the Maou was at the verge of making his displeasures known, the Prince Consort tried his best. They most certainly did not venture out to Yekaterina with the intention of sparking off a confrontation. "It must be an honour, for them."

"Indubitably," Empress Haruhiko conceded – judging from their eagerness to be chosen, the concubines at the dinner, too.

Yuuri never could comprehend Wolfram's sense of pride and honour; inevitably, the half-Mazoku did not understand this as well.

Besides, why didn't Wolfram spurn the offer straight away? If the offer was accepted, wouldn't Yuuri have to h-have sex with one of the concubines? Possibly more than once? Why wasn't Wolfram calling Yuuri 'cheater!' when the latter was about to become one? Why did he ask questions that sounded like he was encouraging Yuuri t-to cheat?

The dam was about to break.

Under the table, Murata tapped Wolfram's knee with a finger and jerked his hand, pointing to the doors. A quick escape would be good. Scratch that - a lightning-fast escape was desperately necessary.

"This is certainly unanticipated," the blonde stated and straightened his back, schooling his body language to tell her that he was about to take his leave.

The Empress was good at reading between the lines. "Take as much time as you need, His Highness," she turned to Yuuri, who was fuming in puzzlement, "Your Majesty. It is late…I ask for permission to be dismissed."

Wolfram bobbed his head slightly and Haruhiko stood, bowing at the guests. The concubines followed immediately, showing their respect simultaneously like trained soldiers before dispersing. Before any Mazoku could rose to their feet, the Butler of East Wing approached them and bowed deeply. "Let me lead you back, Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Eminence, and Your Excellency."

The walk cooled Yuuri's head and by the time the group reached the common room, the double black wasn't tense anymore. "That wasn't so bad," he commented, "aside from the baby thing, of course."

Yuuri turned to Wolfram, mouth opening. The former was about to reprimand his spouse when the blonde shot Yozak a look. The ginger-haired man shoved his king into the Prince Consort's bedroom, Conrad and Wolfram following them in. Murata was the last to enter. Before the Great Sage locked the door, he poked his head out and gave the maids a disarming smile. "Vacate the premise for the next one hour, won't you?" he veiled his order and saw that it was obeyed.

As soon as the click of the bolt rang in the air, Wolfram shouted, cutting the half-Mazoku royalty off before he could have his say. "Not bad? NOT bad?" the green-eyed demon poked his self-proclaimed wimp on the chest. "That was only a preliminary meeting! With no male members of the Yekaterina Court present, and already we've handed them the upper hand on a silver platter!"

"P-preliminary…?" Yuuri blinked. "Handed the upper hand…how? I don't get it!"

Wolfram wasn't listening to him. "And that 'call me Yuuri'! What's that? Before we even see the conditions you'd told her you'd like Shin Makoku to be Yekaterina's ally!" he continued, "His Eminence tried to salvage the situation…giving his name away jokingly to show that it was in an Earthling's nature to be friendly and the Empress understood the embedded message…but don't pull a stunt like that with the Emperor!"

Yuuri was stunned. He still wasn't able to translate the consequences of his words, grasp connotations of his actions. "I-"

"Not to mention the fact that you told the Empress her name is supposedly a guy's name!" The Prince Consort pressed his fingers on his throbbing temple. "That's as good as saying her parents regretted the fact that she was born a female!"

"To be fair," Murata attempted to cheer the gloomy, adrenaline-filled atmosphere before Wolfram blurt anything that could hurt himself. "Yuuri is supposedly a girl's name too, Shibuya. But I didn't say that out loud, did I?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you did. Ofukuro-san(2) did regret that I was born a boy," the Maou griped, but his tone revealed that he wasn't serious with his complaint. "After all, she used to dress me in skirts."

Yozak grinned. "Sometimes I wish I've been born a girl."

"That's obvious, from your penchant for cross-dressing," Yuuri retorted.

"Don't stray from the point!" Wolfram was determined. "The moment we discovered Kranos wouldn't be in the banquet we didn't want you to come but you-!"

"Is that why you didn't wake me up?" Yuuri sounded disappointed. He thought Wolfram was the only person who would never lie to him. "You could at least share your plans with me!"

"We tried," the Great Sage chimed, "Shook you so hard. You were just… out cold. We left a note on the dresser, though."

Yuuri vaguely remembered knocking everything off said furniture in his haste to find his watch and flushed in embarrassment.

"Thing is," Conrad took over his younger brother. Wolfram's fiery temperament could prove more detrimental to the royal couple's brittle relationship. "If Emperor Kranos chose not to attend the dinner, your attendance will showcase your eagerness for the alliance. It gives the impression that you are at Yekaterina's beck and call."

"Chose to?" Wolfram hated that Yuuri didn't react to his godfather defensively. "Yura-san said he was occupied…"

"She didn't specify the matter," his anger perishing quickly, the blonde sat down on one of the couches, leaned back and crossed his arm over his eyes, exhaustion creeping to his bones, "most probably, the absence is deliberate. They were testing us."

Yuuri slumped forward. "And we fell for it." Finally, he could figure it out.

"Completely," Yozak joined Wolfram on the couch, devious blue eyes gleaming, "but it didn't mean we didn't obtain anything."

There was a pause.

"Yozak," Wolfram removed his limb from his face, "What is your impression of the Empress?"

The muscular man placed his elbows on his thighs and brought his hands together. Carroty strands fell over his solemn façade. "She's a force to reckon with."

"Huh?" Yuuri looked like he wasn't agreeing with the spy's opinion. Conrad nodded at his comrade, though, and Murata hid his eyes behind his specs, so the king decided to listen to his friends' reasoning. "Why did you say that?"

Yuuri's definition of a 'villain' must be someone who reeked of evil. It was those who could conceal their maliciousness he had to be careful with, and Empress Haruhiko might turn out to someone like that fishy ruler of Small Shimaron, Saralegui…(3)

"She's smart," Murata started.

"Perceptive," Yozak chimed. All those reading between the lines and reacting to Yuuri's unintentional offences in strides…

"Composed," Wolfram added through gritted teeth. He hated that he hadn't mastered that skill, that people could read his emotions like they were crudely flashed over his face. He needed to rein his temper. "She knows exactly where she's standing…thus she's able to express herself appropriately, with confidence."

"That's not something easily achieved," Yozak whistled, "considering she must be young…early twenty, at most?"

"We can't be sure about that," Wolfram frowned, "I'm not too comfortable about her mismatched eyes."

Another pause, another instance of immobility.

Wolfram rose to his feet. "Yozak," his voice sounded solemn, authoritative, his gait more imposing. The third son was speaking as the Prince Consort, now. "I want you to investigate the Empress: her heritage and origins, how she came to replace Pamellia. Was she ever Ms Haruhiko? What did she do to deserve surpassing other concubines, who had born male heirs for the Emperor and stayed in the Court longer? Find any fine details you can get your hands on."

The half-Mazoku dropped to his knees. Truthfully, Yozak used to hate Wolfram. That Wagamama Pu had caused Conrad much pain and trampled all over the place as and when he wished. However, over time, the blonde had matured and developed to an aristocrat worthy of his inheritance, who put his responsibilities over his life. For a fact, Yozak was aware that Wolfram strived to be a skilled soldier like Conrad, yet after he was married to Maou Heika he was willing to cast his ambitions aside and throw himself to the duties of an Imperial spouse. He had become the honourable Prince Consort Lady Cheri's husbands never were.

For this, Yozak added Wolfram to the list of people he'd lay his life on the line for. "Your wish is my command, Your Highness."

The blonde nodded. "Thank you," he spoke sincerely, before allowing the spy to rise and retreat to begin his mission.

On the other hand, Yuuri didn't like the decree. "Won't it infringe her privacy?" he inquired after Yozak's figure disappeared through the door, disdain clear in the vibration of his voice.

"It's necessary," Wolfram sighed, half-lidded eyes peering at the moon over the window before his feet carried him to the sill. He reached out, fingertips sliding over the icy transparent surface of the glass. "Because a ruler's choice of spouse can disclose so much about the ruler and the kingdom," he continued, his spine facing his king.

"Huh?" The double-black blanched. He had expected the blonde to rationale with the essentiality of the Maou's safety, to remind him of his duties and had prepared the appropriate responses. The remark threw him off the loop. "How so?" he inquired as Murata hummed, "that makes sense," simultaneously.

"If the imperial spouse of a kingdom is a royalty of another nation, then that kingdom values her relationship with that nation most, to the point that there may be a colonial relationship between them," Conrad elaborated.

The more intelligent of the two Earthlings nodded and explained, "Or the two may support the same ideology…Princesses used to be 'traded' amongst kingdoms in the past-"

"Like 'hostages'?" Yuuri interrupted, outraged.

"But it had gone out of fashion," the Great Sage continued in a detached, nearly-absent tone reserved for reminiscences, "because the princesses' wellbeing was at stake, and most rulers preferred to not be murdered in their sleep."

"Murdered?"

"There had been a fair share of assassinations of rulers that were discovered to have been conspired by their foreign spouses," the brown-haired warrior recalled patches of history lessons he used to receive.

"So the trend shifted," it was Murata again, "As the rift amongst the humans and the Mazoku widened, royal families aren't willing to send daughters over. Rulers marry native noblewomen – or noblemen – instead, a safer choice. Instead of hiding warfare strategies from the Queens or Prince Consorts, they could be part of the government."

"Even then, rulers choose to marry many sorts of spouses: the docile trophies type," the bespectacled boy ticked off his fingers as he counted, "gorgeous but absolutely air-headed…rulers that prefer those are most probably autocratic…like to be in charge and detest criticisms. Rulers who aren't as self-assured prefer the adoring, supportive type or alpha type…remember Antoine and Lyla? If the advisors have their ways, you'll find that spouses tend to be everything the rulers are not, so both can preside over the country complementarily." Murata ended his narration.

A pair of dark eyes sought the solitary figure of his husband, bathed in moonlight that bleached his colours. _'What do others who view you as my spouse infer of me, Wolfram? What of me do you reveal?'_

"However, after peace had come to stay, the practice of bartering princesses returns," the knowledgeable Daikenja shrugged, snapping Yuuri off his rapidly convoluting thoughts, "Marriage amongst nobles is a matter of politics, not love."

Wolfram's thin shoulders flinched.

Yuuri's brows creased as his façade distorted to one of upset.

"Whatever Empress Haruhiko has that other concubines lack is valued by Emperor Kranos. Understanding him will not hurt us," Conrad justified his brother's action, swerving the conversation in hope of taking the Soukoku's mind (4) off His Eminence's distressingly true claim. Personally, he had two reasons. He agreed with Wolfram and the emerald-eyed royalty was dear to him. "That's why Wolfram finds it imperative to investigate Empress Haruhiko."

"Fine. I'll leave it at that," Yuuri sighed. There was so much he didn't concede to, so much he wanted to clarify. He turned to the fire-wielding Mazoku and walked towards him till they were barely a foot away. "What about the baby?"

Wolfram rotated slightly, one side of his face visible to his king. "It's up to you, really," his voice was monotonous, listless.

"The hell?" Yuuri tried to refrain from cursing, he really did. But Wolfram was being impossible. And he didn't even have any clue! "I don't even know what THAT was all about! I'm supposed to knock up one of Kranos' women or something? For what?"

"An heir to the throne." The Maou was replied. The curl of Conrad's smile wasn't moderated, a mask cemented to his head.

"Past Maou weren't required to procure heirs because the next in line would be appointed by that playful King," the Great Sage spoke in an exasperated voice, traces of fondness creeping to the complaint as he felt the need to pace. "Then Shinou left, and the incumbent Maou has to prepare a successor," he settled by leaning on the wall next to the window occupied by the Prince Consort, black-sleeved arms crossed over slim chest. "The problem is: the Maou and the Imperial Consort are both males."

Yuuri was so wrinkled his resemblance to Gwendal wasn't even funny. "How about Greta?"

"The Princess is a human," Conrad reminded his King dutifully when Wolfram resumed his silence. "Forgive me for saying this, but Your Majesty will most probably outlive her."

The Earthling royalty did NOT want to dwell on that. "Those concubines are humans."

"But you're half-Mazoku," the blonde spoke for the first time after a while. "Your children will be quarter-Mazoku. Any part-Mazoku, regardless of the percentage of demon heredity in their blood, age similarly. Children born from your union with one of those concubines can be your heir."

Yuuri was dumbfounded. "So are you telling me to have sex with one of them? Isn't that cheating?" By the end of the question, he was almost yelling.

"I repeat: it's up to you!" Wolfram retorted back as he swung around, rivalling his husband in wrath. He was about to scream again when his brother placed a hand on his upper arm, effectively cutting his rant.

"You can always decline, Heika," Conrad pacified, "Tell the Empress that your marriage is young and you are still not thinking of having a child yet."

"But you've already got Greta," Murata raised one eyebrow, "It's a pathetic excuse." When the troubled expression persisted to reside on his friend's face, he added, "But you can tell her you're not in dire need of an heir because you are already in possession of one. Technically, Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya is your heir. (5) He will most probably outlive you, and take charge in your absence." Murata extracted himself off the wall, eyeing the blonde's tightening fists. The monochrome effects of the dim lighting hid the indication of his stress. There was no way Murata could break the news that keep both parties happy. "That's also why no one either protested the marriage or pestered you on the issue before, Shibuya."

Yuuri's eyes flew to the only pureblood Mazoku in the chamber, mouth parting in disbelief. "Wolf-"

"I am not your heir," the fair demon interrupted, "Whether you decide to have a baby with one of the concubines or not, eventually, that child will be yours alone after we divorce. Again, it's up to you. About your cheating me," he paused to take a big gulp of oxygen. Wolfram was so worked out splotches of unsightly crimson ruined the fair skin of his cheeks. "Our marriage is a farce! So why do you care?"

"That's-" _not true_ Yuuri wanted to bellow, but that would be lying. The demon King drooped, like a cat that just bristled but lost the arc of its feline body, eyes rooted to the ground. He scuffed his toe on the fabric of the carpet morosely, the flesh of his lower lips rolled between his worrying teeth.

Conrad and Murata shared a glance. "Your Majesty," the Ruttenberg warrior put his hand on his godson's arm and guided him out, "It's late. Let's retire for the day."

"I'm absolutely beat," Murata pretended to stretch and presented a plastic, sunny grin, "Good night, Shibuya. Good night, Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya." He exited in a leisurely sashay.

"Good night," Wolfram replied as he was left alone, limbs and heart aching, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

* * *

The soldiers guarding the entrance of the chamber bowed as Haruhiko Yura and her lady-in-waiting passed through. "Your Majesty," they greeted her respectfully.

The beautiful woman turned to them with a smile. "Thank you for your hard work. Good night."

The pair of men blushed. They thanked the Gods they were posted there and not to the infantry. "H-have a good sleep, Your Majesty!" one of them stuttered as he opened the door for the two ladies.

The grey-haired maid assisted her life-long Mistress in shedding the elaborate garment and headdress. Her cyan eyes darted over the shadows, making sure that no one was eavesdropping before she let her curiosity get the better of her. "Mistress?" she voiced out.

The mismatched-eyed royalty turned to her servant. "I told you to call me Yura, Misao," her smile was more genuine, "You've served me since you were barely old enough to be a maid."

Misao bowed her head, the impeccable French braid falling off her thin shoulder. "I'm sorry, but that is too imprudent of me…"

Yura gave a dismissive wave, the curve of her lips comprehending. "You were saying…?" she spoke as she picked a circular mirror from the dresser and dabbed at her make-up with her handkerchief.

"Did Mistress not intend to present Maou Heika a concubine?" the lady-in-waiting's question was accompanied by the song of silk, swishing softly as the fabric slid against bare skin. Misao covered the Empress with a cotton robe before proceeding to store the gown, hanging it on a pole near the window so it could be aired tomorrow. "What changed Mistress' mind?"

Yura sat down on a stool and reached out for a comb, white plum painted against black of the wood. "I did explain myself. His Highness Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya's distaste for infidelity is rather well-known. He would not condone his husband's marrying concubines. But after the Original King of Shin Makoku's departure, His Highness cannot deny the need for an heir. This is a risk I must take."

Misao's calloused, worn hand covered the smoother one of her boss as she took the grooming instrument and finished the job herself, sliding the comb against strands of dark, dark brown hair. "Why must Mistress consider His Highness? He should be powerless before Maou Heika."

"Misao," the mask of pleasantness crumbled as the Empress smirked, very, very slightly. "A ruler's choice of spouse can disclose so much about the ruler, and the kingdom. Wolfram von Bielefeld was once nominated to be the 28th Maou."

"What of that?" Misao nearly scoffed. The maid was aware that the Empress permitted her to express her opinions unrestrainedly in private, but there were limits to impoliteness. She continued, more subdued, "That was because he was one of the previous Maou's sons, one of the Ten Nobles, and young. He was chosen over the first son because he will most likely be around for a long time. (5) Changing of rulers tends to be destabilising…"

Yura was satisfied. Misao was intelligent – she made sure of that, educated her to be well-read and informative. Her servant was more capable than some of the senates lounging their sorry blue-blooded arses in her husband's court. But that was another matter the Empress shouldn't touch.

"Ah, but Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya had been a soldier, is knowledgeable in politics and the military. He has valuable qualities…loyal and honourable…As a matter of fact, I found him more capable than that husband of his. During the banquet, Yuuri Heika was always protected by His Highness and His Eminence." The prettier woman turned, "Heika's Advisors are smart. Heika was married to Lord von Bielefeld so Shin Makoku has, in actuality, 2 Kings. The kingdom is largely run by the Prince Consort and Heika's Advisors."

"But His Highness has a weakness," Misao stated in a matter-of-fact tone, a verity she was abundantly certain of, as she put the comb back on the dresser.

"So you've realised," the young Empress rose to her feet, "that makes your task easier."

"Sleep well," Misao kowtowed as Yura headed to the mattress, her figure slipping into the parting of the thin white curtains of the four-poster bed, "I promise it will be done, Mistress."

End of Chapter 1

To be Continued in Chapter 2

**DemonUntilDeath:** Thank you very much for your suggestions! I've removed the A/Ns from the middle of the story. Ahh, I'm not a native speaker, and when I write hurriedly, I throw grammar over the window (and it falls splat on the sea 14 storeys below). I'm weak at prepositions...and I'm always writing awkward phrases and fragments that don't always fit in a sentence. I would love it if you can become my proofreader. Please don't change the sentences beyond recognition (unless the grammar mistakes are really very bad). I like formal. I respond formally as well (do forgive bits and pieces of my 'wit' - I'm in excess and in dire need of releasing them). *Blush* On the contrary, I'm not golden, I'm more leaden. And I haven't really planned chapter 2 yet, so the update will most probably be late.

1. It just dawned into me that Yozak isn't someone of title so he shouldn't be invited to the banquet. Heck, let's just take it Wolfram pressed for it…He wanted Yozak to observe her for a character study.

2. Ofukuro-san: a polite way to say 'mother' in Japanese (and Miko always insists she be called 'mama')

SPOILER: I haven't watched season 3, peeps…I read that Saralegui tricked and tortured Yuuri until Yuuri was blind (and accidentally stabs Wolfram) from translations of the novel, but the anime may differ.

4. Soukoku: double black

5. Yes, I admit some aspects the dialogue between Murata, Yuuri, Wolfram and Conrad, then Yura and Misao were inspired by Love and War by Mikage-chan. I acknowledge I borrowed those. Those who haven't read that story are seriously encouraged to!


	5. Screwed up Families teaser

**Wolfyuu:** You're scaring me. You'll know why.

**Princess Sin:** If that's the case, my fanfiction ends in chapter 2…

**LaDyViL:** There may be extremely, extremely minor YuurixOC. I won't torture Wolfram the conventional way. You'll see.

**GcBella19:** all over livejournal: kkm_wolframfans, kyou_kara_maou, etc. I've only read novel 1, 2 and 7, a bit of 8, 12 and 14. No one ever provided the English translation of the novels in full (there are Chinese translations if you are proficient in the language).

**DemonUntilDeath:** Thank you very much for your suggestions! I've removed the A/Ns from the middle of the story. Ahh, I'm not a native speaker, and when I write hurriedly, I throw grammar over the window (and it falls into the sea 14 storeys below). I'm weak at prepositions...and I'm always writing awkward phrases and fragments that don't always fit in a sentence. I would love it if you can become my proofreader. I've never had a beta-reader...so I don't know how it works...Please don't change the sentences beyond recognition (unless the grammar mistakes are really very bad). It's all right, I like formal =D *Blush* On the contrary, I'm not golden, I'm more leaden.

**TenshiGosuperu:** You're the first to respond that way. Hmm…technically, the baby is a gift. Yekaterina cannot reinforce her claim on the baby and use that to control Shin Makoku. But of course, the baby's a bargaining chip.

**Et All:** Thank you for staying with me!

Chapter 2: Screwed up (Royal) Families

Part 1 (Another teaser)

Doria wiped the condensation off the glass, smiling at another gorgeous morning to be grateful of over the window. In the garden, rich viridian leaves drooped under the weight of clear dews. Crisp, fresh air filled her lungs as she pushed the panes open. With the Prince Consort away, Blood Pledge Castle was swathed in tranquillity.

"A BABY??"

Doria nearly fell splat on the soil seven storeys below.

May be not, then…

* * *

"A BABY??" Gunter's lavender eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of their sockets as the man engaged in a fascinating, bizarre dance, twirling and swaying uncoordinatedly, lean limbs and thick, long locks of hair displacing pieces of porcelains that quickly submitted to the mighty force of gravity. The white dove that delivered him Yozak's report was startled and soared in alacrity, the emptied little box with a heart printed on the material jiggling against the small bird's neck. The dove nearly collided against a flock of azure vulture-like birds, which were singing "Bad Omen! Bad Omen!" at the top of their lungs, as it flew across the sky.

Gwendal sighed and reached out for the abandoned piece of parchment as the lilac-haired Mazoku clutched his head in his hands, moaning an incoherent sentence that sounded strangely like, "nooo, heika, don't agree!" in jumbled order. Cobalt eyes scanned the content quickly before several lines joined the already cramped space between the first son's brows.

"That Yekaterina Empress," Gwendal huffed as he put away the report, "is way, way too smart. And Gunter, sit down before you have an aneurysm!"

The Advisor sat down, albeit reluctantly. One could see that he was still jittery, from the way his fingers were picking at the hem of his robe. "I won't allow it. I won't! Heika isn't allowed to b-bed a wo-" he faltered and sobbed, burying his head in the crook of his arms on the surface of the table. "Heeeiiikaaa!!"

"Leave that issue aside temporarily, won't you?" Gwendal's irritation was obvious in his voice as the man plopped himself onto the seat opposite to the other Mazoku. "And think with a cool head! Should we, or should we not advice Heika to receive the gift?"

"We should not!" Gunter replied with the speed of a lightning, perking up on his chair with enthusiasm.

His companion shot him a glare that could make the bravest soldier cower and send the meekest soldier six feet under. Gunter retracted his answer quickly. "P-perhaps w-we should not be too hasty to come to that c-conclusion-" he stuttered.

"We better," the darker-haired man conceded, folding his arms, leaning his elbow on the table and crossing his fingers in front of his chin. "Let's discuss the advantages of such a…bold proposal."

"There is non-" Gunter nearly bit his tongue when he found himself subjected to a stare more frightening than Medusa's. The charming historian gave a nervous laughter that died when he dropped his bubbling façade, replaced by a solemn, sombre expression creeping to his face. "This proposal proves that Yekaterina is serious in pursuing the Alliance."

Gwendal nodded. "I've expected the Empress to merely offer Heika a concubine, but that isn't enough," he sighed, "Haruhiko wants to ensure that the 'hostage' she's sending here will be well loved by the people in Shin Makoku."

"In actuality, offering a concubine to a foreign king already hints that Yekaterina wants the concubine to bear Heika's heir," Gunter opinionated, detaching himself from the heart of the matter to be able to think with calmness and clarity, something the Wagamama Pu had yet to master. The blonde felt too much. Gunter resented the fact that it was Wolfram who got to be Yuuri Heika's Prince Consort. Gunter was one of the Ten Nobles. Granted the wind-wielder wasn't one of the previous Maou's sons or as young, but he was very well-versed in the intrigues of Shin Makoku's politics. So why-?

"But Heika may choose not to use the services of the concubine instead," Gwendal intervened the other Mazoku's train of thoughts. _'More like, Wolfram won't let him'_ he pondered inwardly. "Anticipating that, the Empress decided to cut to the chase."

There was a moment of silence as the two continued to weight their decisions as objectively as possible. Gwendal had his own concerns about the blonde who was his brother and his master. Eventually, he spoke, "Well, Heika needs an heir."

"The heir doesn't have to be from Yekaterina," Gunter waved his hand dismissively, "As a matter of fact, I believe Wolfram is already Heika's heir."

'_And that,'_ Gwendal frowned, _'is a problem for me.'_ "You are aware of Wolfram's plans to divorce Heika as soon as…" he coughed. The walls had ears. "Are you not?"

The lavender-eyed male scoffed. "As if he will relinquish that position after he finally obtained it!"

"Gunter," the growl was barely humane, low, threatening, and animalistic as it was. "I wish you'd stop treating our Prince Consort that way."

The Mazoku bent his head, a curtain of silky hair hiding his face from view. "O-of course," he replied in a small voice, "That was extremely imprudent of me."

Gwendal leaned back on the chair and crossed his legs. "I agree that the heir doesn't have to be from Yekaterina…in this time frame. Heika is still rather young."

"He has Greta. That excuse doesn't work." Gunter re-straightened himself. "Or Heika can choose his own heir."

"Like the Original King?" Gwendal shook his head. "Heika might have inherited the Original King's powers, and is rumoured to be able to become the greater ruler between the two, but to claim himself a Deity now…that sounds rather arrogant."

"But if Heika accepts the gift, won't other kingdoms get the wrong idea? Won't they perceive that Shin Makoku favours her relationship with Yekaterina?" Gunter raised a valid point.

Gwendal didn't blame Yekaterina for wanting to cement a connection to Shin Makoku. If anything, the Mazoku was grateful Yekaterina did not propose to ally with Big Shimaron. Amongst the human kingdoms, Yekaterina was second only to Big Shimaron in terms of strength of the military. Things were tremendously delicate. Would Yekaterina favour Big Shimaron once Shin Makoku scorn Yekaterina? Yuuri Heika had a habit of offending others inadvertently and that worried his Advisors. According to Yozak, Haruhiko wasn't easily bristled by such…but that double edged sword meant Yuuri's weakness as a diplomat was abundantly clear to her…

"Then let them blame themselves for not being the first to test the waters and grab the opportunity," Gwendal retorted. "That much is true."

Gunter sensed that the first son's decision was already made.

"Yekaterina will be useful in the Alliance. She has many colonies," _'and armed forces'_ the phrase was unsaid but implicit. Gwendal took a deep breath, doubting himself one last time. When he reopened his eyes, they were steely blue, resolute. "Grab the quill," he pointed at the feather near Gunter's elbow. "Tell Heika to choose the oven and put the dough."

A pair of lavender eyes widened to the size of saucers once again. "Gwen…"

Gunter wasn't elated. That aside, did the darker-haired know the implication of his choice…?

Gwendal slumped to the table. "The sooner Wolfram gets over Heika," he heaved, fingers massaging the mass of wrinkles on his temple, "the better."

* * *

"His Highness," Empress Haruhiko looked up from her seat behind the dining table as her butler guided Wolfram after he entered the Hall and she smiled at him.

"Her Majesty," the Prince Consort nodded to return the greeting as one of the servants pulled back the chair next to her. He sat and arranged himself.

"You look especially beautiful this morning, Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya," the royalty praised the fire-wielder. "The royal colour complements your complexion."

Wolfram was wearing a black velvet vest, one where the back was a 5-inch band covering the small of his spine instead of the whole expanse of his rear, and the collar was a halter that plunged deep, fastened together by two silver buttons at his abdomen. The white shirt was silky and adorned with minute frills at the hems of the sleeves, intricate but not overtly effeminate. The first and the second buttons were undone, showing the pendant of a chocker, a piece of obsidian bearing the 27th Maou's insignia with silver linings, resting on the base of the graceful column that was his neck. A pair of grey velvety pants hugged his thighs before disappearing under a pair of knee-length boots.

Wolfram wasn't wearing any black yesterday, in a futile attempt to show that he didn't consider the banquet a formal event. Well, Yuuri shot that impression, so the blonde might as well wear as many pieces of black as he could to assert his status. Especially after that offer.

"Well, thank you Empress Haruhiko," he forced himself to smile amiably as maids bustled about them, preparing him a cup of tea and coffee, "I'd say you look dashing yourself."

The mismatched-eyed woman was dressed in a russet square-collared dress that accentuated her fine bone structure, the sinews below her skin moving over the skeleton almost entrancingly, the flesh of her breasts pressed up but not obscenely like they were about to spill off her clothes. Her straight hair was kept together by golden butterfly-shaped barrettes, traces of unnatural curls clinging to the end of the waist-length locks. The patterns of golden butterflies on the fabric of her garment emphasised the shade of tan, however light, of her skin.

Under a layer of thinly-applied make-up, Wolfram could see traces of the Empress' heritage: the darkness of her hair, the pale tawny skin characteristic of Japanese, the roundness of her eyes, of her nose.

Haruhiko looked slightly similar to Yuuri.

And slightly similar to Murata too, of course; her ancestors were Earthlings, damn it, it shouldn't be strange that she was similar to hi-them.

The epiphany was unsettling.

"His Highness?" her questioning voice brought him out of his reverie. He blinked to find his equal tilting her head worriedly, the smile wiped away from her face. "Did you have trouble sleeping? Is there anything in the guestroom you find unsatisfactory?"

Such a thorough hostess. If he wasn't so suspicious of her, Wolfram would admire her. "I'm fine," he plastered a smile, "I just have something in my mind."

"I understand," Haruhiko smiled again and Wolfram kicked himself in the head. Now she knew he was bothered by yesterday's preposition. He should have said that he was not at his best in the morning. But she may exploit that, too.

He couldn't relax.

"His Highness," the Empress gestured at the pile of toasts, eggs, hams, bacons, cheese and fresh vegetables in front of them, "please help yourself."

The circular dining table was smaller than the rectangular one used the previous night. Seated on his right and left were a number of young women, a handful with colourful gems and pearls beautifying their heads. Most of them had ribbons, golden threads lining the rainbow of colours.

"They are my attendants," the Empress answered Wolfram's curious glance and the blonde blushed. Why did she have to be so observant? Again, Haruhiko noticed the Prince Consort's discomfort and quickly added, "Most concubines prefer to eat in their own quarters unless invited to the Hall."

"I see," Wolfram nibbled on the lettuce he'd placed on his plate. He couldn't eat, not with the tension in his spine. He cursed his weak stomach.

"Are Maou Heika, the Great Sage and Lord Weller coming to join us?"

Wolfram grabbed the opening straight away. "Is Kronos Heika coming to join us?"

The Empress seemed abashed promptly. "Regrettably-"

"Good morning!"

Wolfram itched to cover his face with his hand. His husband always appeared to muddle his attempts to won him an upper hand.

The Soukoku had the audacity to grin at the full-blooded Mazoku as he settled down at the other side of the Empress. "You have pancakes!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"Please help yourself." As soon as the invitation was given, Yuuri moved several pieces to his plate and drenched them in maple syrup. "It tastes heavenly!" he complimented the food, "so sweet! You should try some, Wolfram!"

The blonde mentioned dug his nails to his palm, leaving crescent moon marks on the lined flesh. "Some time soon," Wolfram responded.

"Are you sure?" Yuuri was so dense. Perhaps it was also Wolfram's fault for not mentioning his intention beforehand, but he was too busy quelling his irritation to see straight. "Normally, you like to eat sweets."

Yura watched the interaction quietly. Was it concern that flashed across his dark eyes?

"Not now," Wolfram almost gritted through his teeth.

The trio was spared further torture when one of the Ladies of Absolute Purity doubled over and coughed into her hands, her lithe form raked by trembling.

"Ms Charlotte!" Empress Haruhiko shot to her feet and literally ran to the other woman's side, patting her shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked in a hushed tone.

The red-haired concubine looked up and everyone gasped at the sight of the crimson fluid dripping off her fingers.

Brown and emerald eyes shifted back and forth between the cup, which had been knocked over, its content spilling to the tablecloth, and Ms Charlotte's pinched face. "You're pregnant," the Empress voiced a question.

The commotion stilled, as though someone had pressed a 'pause' button. The maids stopped fussing. The other concubines stopped panicking. Yuuri stopped running to reach the bleeding lady. It was so silent one could hear the tea from the fallen cup dripping over the edge to the floor below.

Ms Charlotte averted her gaze to the ground.

A moment of utter silence passed again.

"Misao," Empress Haruhiko finally spoke, "Get the Imperial Doctors and the investigators. Ms Charlotte had been poisoned. And NO ONE," she raised her voice when the beginning of an uproar appeared, "is to leave this room before the investigators finished gathering evidence!"

TBC


	6. Interlude I: The Murderess Row

**TenshiGosuperu****: **No, no, it's all right! I'm happy someone becomes worked out just from reading my story. (**XEOHE** please read from this part to the asterisk) No, don't hate Yuuri. You realise I've never written in his perspective before? Well, that's partly because his narratives are dumbly hilarious (and comedy and I absolutely have no affinity) – if you watch the anime or read the novel you'll know – also partly because I can't get him as a character. But there is a grander reason for avoiding Yuuri's perspective. Don't blame the guy. He just wanted to have a peaceful breakfast. Yuuri has no sense of urgency and danger, is all (which infuriated Wolfram to no end).*****

As for Gwendal…well, he was hoping that Wolfram would be hurt enough he'd decide he wouldn't stand any more crap from Yuuri. He had an agenda.

**Et All:** Thank you! I may sound petty but reviews really motivate me to write. I need a lot of support when it comes to multi-chaptered stories (because you notice I've never finished one till now)

Chapter 2

Interlude I: The Murderess Row

The tension was so palpable it could cut through butter in a millisecond.

Maidens wrung their hands as men scrutinised the area, brass badges bearing Yekaterina's symbol gleamed from the fabric of their navy blue uniforms. The investigators left no speck of dust untouched, collecting samples as they were ordered around by a bespectacled, bearded, and bossy middle-aged man.

Faced with an attempted murder, Yuuri – seated behind the circular table, piles of food growing cold on the furniture – was too distraught to mimic detectives from his TV series. Next to him, his husband (bodyguard, really) kept a weather eye open: his spine taut and dominant hand twitching for the blade hidden in his boot.

The investigators were also questioning the staff and concubines. One of them was currently conversing with the Empress, jotting down words in a rectangular black book before both nodded.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," the dark-haired woman turned to the foreign royalties and smiled politely, "the investigators have several inquiries. It is not that we suspect you or anything remotely close to that," Haruhiko quickly added.

Yuuri gave his consent before Wolfram could edge in a word. "You need to know the alibi of everyone around, I get that. I don't mind. I'll help any way I can," the Soukoku replied sincerely.

Wolfram listened in to make sure Yuuri didn't mention anything that would direct any kind of distrust towards himself. But the questioning wasn't lengthy - the Maou and his consort couldn't recall meeting anyone suspicious or witnessing any distrustful behaviour.

"I'm sorry I can't be of help, Yura-san." Yuuri scratched the back of his head and gave the Empress a wan smile.

"No, no, thank you very much for your cooperation," the woman replied politely.

Yuuri seemed morose, still. Haruhiko opened her mouth to launch into another idle discussion, undoubtedly to keep the Maou's mind off the grimness of the circumstances. Before she could manoeuvre their interactions, however, Wolfram asked a question he was curious about: a question he hoped would alert Yuuri to the fact that the Empress wasn't what she seemed. "Your Majesty, why did you assume Ms. Charlotte was pregnant?"

The dark-haired consort blinked. "It was an intelligent guess," she paused, then finished hesitantly, "Ms. Charlotte's standing isn't one that warrants her such perils."

'_Translation: she's no one important,' _Wolfram thought inwardly as he made a non-committal noise to encourage the Empress to continue. _'Or, I should say, her parents are neither wealthy nor powerful, hence she isn't important.'_

"Historically, concubines have often been harmed while carrying the Emperor's heirs." Haruhiko tilted her head. With that flawless innocent look, even Yozak would be impressed, were he there to see it. "I thought it might be applicable to Ms. Charlotte."

'_Translation: other concubines__ would find a baby in her womb threatening and conspire to eliminate it.'_

"Hence, either Ms. Charlotte had been targeted for being pregnant…" Suddenly, there was steel in those mismatched irises now, a hard edge that was previously absent. "Or the poison might have been intended for you, Yuuri Heika."

Forest-green eyes widened. The Prince wasn't unsettled by the statement. Rather, he was surprised that the Empress was willing to let that cat out of the bag.

"What?" Yuuri's typical reaction rang in the air as the half-Mazoku jumped to his feet.

Yura bit her lower lip anxiously. This was the first time Wolfram saw that smile, that expression that seemed to have taken a permanent residence on her face, completely disappear. The fire never left the windows of her soul, though, as strength and weakness warred across the delicate beauty of her face.

"I admit there are some nobles in my husband's Court," she spoke with an absolutely neutral tone, "who oppose my proposition to join the Alliance. A matter of bone-deep, misguided prejudice and pride."

Wolfram marvelled at her skill in manipulating her voice, her words. He couldn't detect any of her resentment for those nobles. The words were truthful yet totally evasive. He imagined 'pride' was an allusion to those nobles who felt that only small, weak kingdoms should join the Alliance, not large, strong kingdoms like Big Shimaron and Yekaterina.

"But," Empress Haruhiko reached out to touch the back of Yuuri's hand, directing her determined gaze to the Maou, "your safety is my responsibility. Please forgive my inattentiveness that allowed this situation to happen. I swear that you will leave Yekaterina alive and well."

Moved by such a strong resolution, Yuuri sat back down on the chair and as he held her hand. "Of course," he smiled, "I trust you."

Wolfram bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't permit himself to seethe, even soundlessly.

He had signed up for this, he thought, when he decided to take Yuuri's hand in marriage and be a politician. He could not back down on his promises.

"Your Majesty." A servant requiring the Empress' assistance interrupted the moment shared by the two royalties and they broke apart. "Lord Weller and the Great Sage are outside. They would like to see His Majesty and His Highness."

Haruhiko nodded and turned to the chief investigator, motioning him to come over with a smile. The middle-aged man approached her and bowed, "Your Majesty."

"Sir Anthony." The curve of her luscious lips widened. Such a picturesque sight still flustered many men, the servant among them. It did not, apparently, have any effect on the chief investigator. "How is the progress?"

As cool as a cucumber (in Yuuri's opinion), the chief answered, "We're nearly done with collecting the names of the people who had been in the room before and during the occurrence and currently we're labelling the samples obtained. Another five minutes and the people here can be dismissed, though I would prefer it if the location remains off limits till the list of suspects can be narrowed."

"I see." Yura turned to the servant. "Do pass down the message to His Eminence and His Excellency."

The blushing young man excused himself.

Soon, the crowd of servants, concubines and investigators dispersed. Wolfram stood and shot his husband a look that made him follow suit.

"I'm very sorry for detaining you here, Your Majesty, Your Highness." The Empress rose to her feet as well and bowed. "Lunch will be served in the Ballroom for the time being. Will I see you there?"

"Yep, we'll be there," Yuuri accepted the invitation before Wolfram could confirm Kronos' attendance. It seemed to be the repeating pattern of the visit.

The oblivious Soukoku was going to get it from him once they reached their quarters.

* * *

Yozak wasn't enjoying the mission.

The blue-eyed spy had weighed his options. He really wanted to dress up as one of the Ladies of Grand Harmony and gather information from all the gossip. He imagined those ribbons would be so pretty in his hair.

But he had to shoot down the idea. Each concubine's name was registered in a book stored in the Archives; one of the most heavily guarded places in the Castle, if not in the whole Kingdom. Besides, the women were divided into small groups assigned as ladies-in-waiting to an Imperial Consort of higher rank, whom they would report to at the end of each day. Even with his skill level, Yozak would be discovered by nightfall.

Being of high intelligence and trained in infiltration methods, the half-breed could only appreciate the system from afar. The Castle must have dealt with female assassins masquerading as the Emperor's wives in the past, hence the perfected system.

It was a rarity, but for once, Yozak didn't need to disguise himself. Rather, he was supposed to keep up the pretence that he was the noble, as introduced at last night's dinner. Of course, that had been the Great Sage's idea. His Eminence was truly ingenious.

Yozak supposed it made his job a lot less complicated. He just had to 'let slip' that he was hoping to request one of Kronos Heika's 'lovely ladies' to wed, and the concubines at the bottom of the hierarchy – teenage girls barely older than Princess Greta, really – answered his inquiries. They were so eager to please him.

He didn't like flirting with them, didn't like their giggling, but this was like taking candy from a baby compared to other life-threatening, neck-breaking tasks he was usually assigned. He supposed he shouldn't complain.

"Empress Haruhiko is young, isn't she?" Yozak tapped a finger on his cheek and 'pondered' out loud after having joked with the young girls yet again.

"Lord Grier, you can't bring Her Majesty home!" A lady with bubble-gum pink hair retorted, chuckling at her own remark.

"Of course I can't," he laughed, playing along with his company. "That's too bad, isn't it? If only Kranos Heika didn't anoint her…" He sighed. "I wonder why Kranos Heika did…"

Yozak didn't have to mention anything that might implicitly insult the mismatched-eyed woman. They did it all for him; streams of protests gushed out of the little ladies' lips.

"There are other ladies who are mo- eh, I mean, equally beautiful," one of them quipped.

"She hasn't even born any sons, has she?" another whined. "In terms of 'contribution', Superior Lady Trisha, who has 3 sons…or Superior Lady Angela, who has 1 son and 2 daughters…" she trailed off.

"Her Majesty's parents aren't that rich or influential, either!" A bitchy-looking one complained. "They're your average feudal lords."

"Rumour has it she isn't even completely human!" the sandy-haired, cyan-eyed one chimed excitedly.

Yozak loved these girls. He purposely chose to mingle with the younger batches of concubines. They hadn't quite learned to control their mouths, hadn't understood that certain words shouldn't be spoken. Of course, Yozak would have to reassess the authenticity of their claims, but more often than not, rumours originated from a tiny core of truth.

The gang of gossiping girls gasped in unison to the previous, bubbly comment. "What do you mean?"

"You mean she's part-Mazoku?"

Yozak perked up. That might be the reason Haruhiko wasn't averse to sealing the Alliance.

"It's worse," the sandy-haired girl hissed mischievously. "Rumour has it she has an animal somewhere up the line."

"Animal?" everyone chorused.

"Such an outrage!"

"You mean, like, a magical creature? A fox…or a fairy?"

"Maybe it's a succubus!" one suggested enthusiastically. "That's how she has powers to seduce His Majesty!"

"Maybe she brewed a love potion!"

Before the speculations (which sounded eerily similar to ones that a quartet of maids often had back in Blood Pledge) spiralled out of hand, Yozak steered the 'discussion' to a u-turn. "Does any one of you know why Empress Pamellia passed away? Was it a disease or…" He left it open-ended.

Seven pairs of eyes stared blankly at one another. "Saa…" one started. (1)

"We weren't here when she died." Several heads bobbed in agreement.

"No one was executed for murdering the late Empress." Finally, there was something tenuously intelligent in the chaos of farfetched ideas. "Empress Pamellia must have died from a disease."

"No, she didn't!" Uh-oh, thought Yozak, the bitchy one looked positively wicked. Everyone leaned forward curiously when her voice was lowered to a harsh whisper. "I was serving my matron…do you know Lady Cassiopeia?"

"The one who always looks like she has a pole up her arse and an inch-thick mask of flaky make-up on her face?" a brunette chimed.

"That unsavoury granny," the bitchy one cackled, a high-pitched sound that grated on Yozak's nerves. "Anyways, Princess Amelia was visiting her mother several weeks ago. I was preparing that prized smelly tea of my matron's to serve them in the neighbouring room when I heard that granny talk about the late Empress Pamellia. She complained that the Emperor was being unjust during the debacle. Superior Lady Cassiopeia also mentioned…" The bitchy one paused for dramatic effect.

"What? What did she say?"

"Just tell us!" one demanded in exasperation.

"You're so impatient!" the bitchy one pouted.

Yozak was seriously considering whacking her in the head. "Missy, please don't keep us on our toes." He dished out his charming smile.

He had her wrapped around hislittle pinkie. "She said…" the girl complied. "She said…"

"…Empress Haruhiko killed the late Empress Pamellia."

TBC

1. Saa…is like 'who knows?'

A/N: I'd like to thank **DemonUntilDeath** for beta-ing this chapter! All the best for your exams!


	7. Screwed up Families I

**Chopwins**: I'm sorry I'm afraid I will be your 'some people'. May be it's my fault, presenting only one side of my OC initially, but the other side of Haruhiko and a bit of the reasons why she's doing the things she does will be revealed in this chapter.

**cridget101**: Yep! My specialties…

**TenshiGosuperu**: No, no, you're not reading too much into things…I'm glad that some of you manage to catch what I want to convey, actually.

**mysterytrain**: Oh…I'm sorry. Will "Yuuri sounds girlish for a name if you ask me, Shibuya." Be all right? I'll mend it straight away. Thank you.

**et all**: That was rude of me to forget to thank everyone who reviewed! Tho I find it odd that despite the cries for update the number of reviews has been on the decline...

A/N: Thank you so much, **DemonUntilDeath**, for being my beta and arguing with me till dawn (in my time zone, anyways) on the plot. I really appreciate your help =D

Chapter 2

Part 2 of 'Screwed up (Royal) Families'

"And if she offers another invitation-"

The Soukoku turned back to face his husband, huffing, "Yes, yes, I won't accept it without making sure that Kronos will be there!"

"Yuuri Heika..." Yozak took several long strides forward and tried to nudge the King's black-clad shoulder as the group of five trudged down the corridor. A few paces behind them, Conrad pondered whether he should join Yozak, while Murata lingered behind with an indulgent smile on his face.

The royal couple continued to bicker.

"I'm just reminding you-"

"Geez, Wolfram, I get it! You've been repeating that over and over!" The Maou was becoming more and more worked up, his face splotching red.

"Yuuri Heika!" Yozak repeated , beginning to panic.

"Yuuri Heika," a feminine, recognizable voice stopped the burgeoning ruckus.

Yozak turned away and slapped his hand to his face. "Speak of the devil…" he murmured under his breath.

Wolfram and Yuuri spun around – almost literally – to find Empress Haruhiko standing in the middle of the corridor; mismatched eyes slightly rounded and rouged lips parted. On her right stood the trusted, grey-haired maid always seen with her Mistress. On her left stood an unfamiliar man dressed in a white robe, his hair pulled away from his face and neck and tucked into the white cap.

"Yura-san!" the Maou exclaimed.

With the surprise leaving her face, the Empress bowed to greet her guests with respect. "Yuuri-sama, Lord von Bielefeld-Shibuya, Murata-sama, Lord Weller and Lord Gurrier."

Murata waved while the non-earthlings bowed and returned her greeting. "Your Majesty."

"Proceeding to lunch?" Yura smiled amiably.

"Yes!" Yuuri found himself feeling comfortable around the woman. The Soukoku had noticed that Yura had the same aura as Conrad: the smile, the graciousness, the sudden bursts of inner strength. "Are you going the same way?"

The Empress shook her head, dislodging several impeccable strands of dark hair from behind her ears. "I'm afraid I will be late for lunch." The curve of her lips seemed apologetic. "I am going to visit Ms. Charlotte first. Mr. John McCall, the medical officer here," she introduced the man in white, who bowed to the ensemble from Shin Makoku, "has just informed me that Ms. Charlotte has come to and is allowed to see visitors."

"Ms. Charlotte...Oh! She's the one who was poisoned during breakfast, right?" Yuuri turned to the medical officer, concern overtaking his face. "Is she all right?"

"We managed to remove the poison from her bloodstream," John replied, his stance angled in such a way that he was facing both the Empress and the Maou. "Ms. Charlotte may be lethargic for the next few days, but the baby is unharmed."

Yuuri sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," he said with a gentle smile.

The Empress lowered her eyelids, the colours of her irises darkening in contemplation. "So Ms. Charlotte is indeed pregnant."

The medical officer nodded perceptibly. "Ms. Charlotte is in her second trimester. The pregnancy is showing; there is a swell on her lower abdomen."

'_Translation: she can't claim ignorance,' _Wolfram thought. He was getting better at this.

"Ne, ne, Yura-san," Yuuri stepped closer to the female consort. "May I visit Ms. Charlotte as well?"

"Your Majesty is most welcome." The Empress switched to a smile in a flash. "She will feel honoured."

"Is there enough room for all of us?" Murata interjected before Wolfram could insinuate something of a similar line in a less pleasant manner.

The Great Sage's grin widened when the blonde shot him a look.

"Of course." Empress Haruhiko raised her hand and pointed at the corner. "Come, follow us."

* * *

"Your Majesty," the pale, red-haired, young woman shifted into a seated position and attempted to bow to her queen and merry band of visitors. "Maou Heika, Your Highness, Your Holiness and Your Excellency." She looked scared and small, her wide eyes dominating her face.

"Please lie down." Yuuri and Yura reached out almost simultaneously, speaking the same words in different tones – one in concern and the other completely calm. As they rushed to soothe the ailed concubine, their fingers touched. Both royalties withdrew immediately, rouged lips forming a small 'o' while the Soukoku's cheeks tinged pink.

A vein popped on a pale, smooth temple obscured by a curtain of golden bangs.

"I hear that you will be well in a matter of days." The Empress put on a smile again.

Ms. Charlotte nodded from her position on the mattress. "I have Mr. McCall to thank for that." She offered a smile in return, but her hand betrayed her anxiety, tightening to a fist as she clutched her blanket and pulled it up to cover her chest.

Mismatched-eyed gaze swept across the taut limb before the Empress put her palm on the younger woman's hand reassuringly. "Please relax." Haruhiko bent down, the curve of her lips lengthening. "Now that John has confirmed your pregnancy, you are entitled to a poison-tester. You won't have to worry about anything you consume and you will have the best medicine there is." She continued, "The medical officers will care for you to the best of their abilities."

Far from being relieved, Ms. Charlotte began to quiver, little tremors shaking her petite form. She avoided looking at her Empress in the eyes, chapped lips and clammy cheeks losing colour completely.

Empress Haruhiko turned to her guests from Shin Makoku. "Yuuri Heika," her expression contained an apology, "I am sorry but I have to request that every male leave this room. I'm afraid I have to discuss some matters with Ms. Charlotte. It's a girl-to-girl talk." She winked.

The grey-haired maid, Misao, ushered the group of Mazoku to a holding room next to the bedroom. There was a circular table placed at the centre and a finely decorated tea set lying atop the crimson tablecloth. The old maid reached out to prepare the beverage, but Yuuri intercepted her.

"It's all right," the young king said with a good-natured smile, "we're not really thirsty." He looked at his companions for confirmation.

Yozak was quick to give the nod. "We're comfortable, thanks." The ginger-haired male grinned and added, "You can attend to your Mistress."

The maid paused before she obeyed the thinly-veiled dismissal. She bowed and returned to the bedroom. As soon as her figure disappeared behind the sliding doors, the spy tiptoed towards them and pried the movable panels apart by a mere fraction of an inch.

Yuuri, who had been settling down to one of the chairs behind the table, was horrified. "Yozak!" he hissed, getting back to his feet straight away. "What are you-"

"Sshh!" the muscular half-Mazoku shushed his master, one blue eye stuck to the tiny opening and darting around before focusing on the stoic figure of Empress Haruhiko. "Just sit back and listen, won't you?"

"But-" Yuuri whined.

"Ssshh!" Wolfram placed one finger in front of his lips and glared at his husband while Conrad covered the Soukoku's mouth with his hand, gently. The king looked up in surprise only to get the ever-pleasant smile in reply. Murata joined Yozak behind the doors, pressing one side of his face to the smoothened surface.

It wasn't necessary. Not a beat later, the Empress's voice reverberated through the air, clear as crystal even to Yuuri, who was furthest away from the doors. Her voice, raised in anger and yet more dispassionate and foreign than the Maou had ever heard, dripped with indifference. "Why?"

There was silence for the longest of time.

"Why have you not announced your pregnancy?" the Empress inquired again. "Are you not aware that your reticence has endangered Kranos Heika's heir – a crime punishable by death?" she pressed on.

"I-I..." a shaky voice presumably belonging to Ms. Charlotte could be heard, another moment of silence trailing in its wake.

"Does the baby in your womb not belong to Kranos Heika's?" Haruhiko's voice dropped one decibel to a low whisper. The occupants of the holding room had to strain their senses to catch the question.

"NO!" Ms. Charlotte was quick to rebut, voice rising to a shrill squeak. "It's His Majesty's! I swear it is Kranos Heika's!" There was terror in the timbre of her voice, her anxiety multiplied hundredfold.

Yozak watched the Empress of Yekaterina turn to her lady-in-waiting. "Misao," she addressed as she took out an object from a concealed pocket and passed it to her maid. It was a palm-sized cube of gold with a peculiar insignia carved on one side. "Go to the Archives and sift through the Book of Summoning," the royalty ordered.

Yozak trained his eye on that design, on the double-headed snake coiled around a loosely clenched hand or, more specifically, around the pinkie finger. He memorized the image as closely as he could.

Misao bowed, clutched the object near her heart, and left through another door.

The Empress turned back to the bedridden woman, her mismatched gaze unreadable. "I hope we'll see truth in the claim, Ms. Charlotte," she spoke before turning on her heels. "Do excuse me. I have lunch to attend."

The lower-ranked concubine's response reeked of defeat. "Long live the Emperor and the Empress," she mumbled, bidding farewell to her superior.

Yozak and Murata barely sprung away from the doors before they parted open. Empress Haruhiko stood in the doorway, a pleasant smile fastened to her features. "Now that the girl-talk is done, I think we shall proceed for lunch!" Her melodious tone was polite, enthusiastic and kind, a world's difference from how she had spoken moments ago in private.

"I agree!" Murata chorused her eagerness, appearing like the patient guest waiting for food instead of the prying individual eavesdropping on a revealing conversation. "I'm really hungry!" The Sage rubbed his stomach and grinned.

As the troupe walked down the corridors leading to the Ballroom, Yozak caught his king throwing not-so-discreet glances of assessment at the Empress, who was holding an amiable exchange with Murata. The spy quirked a smile of his own.

* * *

Lunch was a different affair from breakfast. Narrow dining tables had been arranged to the shape of a rectangle, encompassing the room parametrically and leaving an empty space in the middle. Two unconnected tables near the door provided a passageway to the centre. A hundred people could easily dine there.

By the time the entourage reached the Ballroom, most of the seats were occupied by more and more attractive concubines, many younger than the ones Yuuri had dined with the previous night, and he couldn't help but stare. Some girls returned his gaze shyly, while others winked boldly. The Maou blushed to the colour of a tomato.

Wolfram endured with clenched fists as he tried to expand his 'blind spot'.

Murata waved at the girls cheerily. Beside him, Yozak gave the horde he'd 'courted' that morning a knee-melting grin and Conrad's eyebrow rose to his hairline.

"I was gathering information," the ginger-haired half-Mazoku whispered and jabbed the brunet with his elbow.

The Empress led the entourage across the room to the head table. A handful of ladies were seated around chairs designated to the Mazoku. These young girls were distinct from the concubines by the tiaras on their heads rather than the usual ribbons or gems. There were also similarities, certain facial features that were common amongst them, that hinted at some form of relation. Besides, three of them were definitely below marrying age.

These ladies stood before them and bowed. "Hahaue (1)," they greeted simultaneously.

"Please be rested," Empress Haruhiko replied before turning to her guests. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your Eminence and Your Excellency, these are Princesses of Yekaterina." Then the mismatched-eyed woman introduced her 'daughters' one by one.

"Nice to meet you!" Yuuri reached out to one of the youngest Princesses. "I have a daughter back at home, too. Greta would be very happy to become friends with you…"

The small girl, pink hair tied into two pigtails, recoiled from the Soukoku's hand.

"Some of them are very withdrawn." The Empress attempted to mask the obvious hostility by widening her smile. "It'll take some time for them to warm up to you."

"It's all right." The curve of Yuuri's lips was forced, too. "I understand!"

The chefs of Yekaterina strove to impress their guests with their culinary skills that night and succeeded. At the rate Yuuri was shoving food down his throat, he would gain several pounds in a matter of days. The green-eyed blonde next to him, though, was not eating again.

The king put down his knife and swallowed the chewed piece of chicken before opening his mouth. "Wolf-"

Yuuri was interrupted when the main door to the Ballroom opened wide. "His Excellency, Sir Robert, has arrived!" the servant bellowed at the top of his lungs.

A tall, twenty-something-year-old man entered and strode to the head table with the gait of a high-ranked military officer – confident and firm. He was handsome with dark grey eyes gazing steadily ahead and shoulder-length, navy blue hair tied into a ponytail. His frame was muscular, yet lean: a swordsman's figure.

His eyes lit up when they landed on the dark-haired Empress and his pace quickened. "Hahaue," he greeted Yura, his smile splitting his face in two as he bowed. "It has been a long time."

Murata and Yozak shared a glance. They had not imagined the flush on the man's cheeks.

Yuuri, however, stared in bewilderment. Any children of the concubines called the Empress 'Mother,' that much he could comprehend. However, the scene felt…strange…because Robert was definitely older than Yura...and yet…

An epiphany shot through his mind abruptly. He, too, would encounter this. Wolfram barely looked older than Greta now and Yuuri, who had started aging like a half-Mazoku since his sixteenth birthday, would someday appear younger than his daughter too.

The Maou banished the thought away quite successfully. Denial was Yuuri's forte.

"Robert." The Empress rose to her feet, walked around the table, and offered the man her hand. He kissed the back of it, holding on seconds longer than what was appropriate. "It has been a long time, indeed. How was the patrol? Your brothers did not bother you, I hope?" Yura withdrew her hand subtly.

"Alexander wasn't any trouble," Robert assured the Empress. "Miguel, however…"

Yura's face transformed in a split second. Anxiety invaded every pore of her expression. "What happened to Miguel?" she barely stopped herself from grabbing the man.

Before Robert could reply, the servant announced. "His Highness Crown Prince Alexander and Prince Miguel-"

"Shut up!" A loud bratty voice rang in the air, its owner following. "Did you want to make me deaf, idiot?"

Yuuri gasped.

The boy that walked to the head table like he owned the whole castle looked a bit like Wolfram: slender, blonde and pretty. His eyes were like amethysts instead of stunning emeralds, though, and his messy hair didn't compare to the rather artful look of Wolfram's. Besides, Yuuri liked to think that his husband would be an eternal bishounen; that not-clone seemed like he was caught in the transition of puberty, where testosterone might horribly disfigure his boyish beauty.

"A-Alex!" Another boy, most likely the same age as the crown prince, followed his brother after apologizing to the scolded servant. The boys shared eyes of the same purple colour, but the resemblance ended there. Miguel was as tan as the blonde was fair, his face as oval as Alex's was angular, the former accompanied by fine, regal cheekbones. He was gangly and awkward, his hair a strange shade of faded caramel. Miguel wasn't unsightly, but he wasn't attractive, either.

"A-Alex, that was rude…" the boy tried to admonish his brother (and failed big time).

"That's true." Robert reached out to calm the aggravated blonde. "The servant was just doing his job…"

The hand was slapped away. "Don't touch me! You're not my brother!" Alexander snarled before rounding on Miguel. "And don't call me by my name, you klutz! I don't acknowledge you either!"

Yozak could barely contain his laughter. Déjà vu, much?

"Alexander," the Empress reprimanded him but didn't list his faults. She knew he was conscious of them and would only rectify his attitude on his own will.

Miguel turned to her and grinned. "Hahaue!" he chirped brightly and swooped to a deep bow. Or attempted to before falling on his face.

Yura was fast to catch him, her fingers curling around his thin wrist. "Be careful," the anxiety was back in her face, but her eyes were soft, her gaze fond. "I heard you had some troubles during the patrol." She pulled back his sleeve, exposing a bandaged arm.

"I'm all right." Miguel raised the hand and swung it around (nearly smacking his 'mother' in the face). "My dumb luck makes up for my two left legs." His grin widened.

She inspected the bandages, fingertips skimming over the fabric lightly. "Thank goodness," her smile appeared more genuine.

Yozak noted the interaction with interest. It was apparent Prince Miguel held a place in the Empress' heart, making the woman more vulnerable. This would have to be investigated.

"I heard you did well." The Empress turned to the blonde next, stretching out her hand to commend him. "Your father is going to be so proud…"

Alexander flinched away from the young woman. "Don't touch me, usurper!" There was venom in his brightening amethyst irises turning to vehemence and molten fury.

Silence shrouded the Ballroom like a suffocating cloak as chattering died swiftly. Concubines, princesses, and servants stared at the drama unfolding before their eyes, unsure of how to respond – who to defend.

Robert was the first to move. "Apologise to Hahaue!" he spoke harshly. His status might not allow him to treat the blonde disrespectfully, but he was the older half-brother. He was entitled to give the brat a scolding.

Alexander stood his ground. "I won't!" he hissed. "She's not my mother! My mother is dead! Don't ever think for a second that you managed to replace her!" His voice rose in volume before breaking at the end. Unsightly crimson splotches marred his cheeks as he huffed and puffed to catch his breath.

As his hatred died down, the sudden awareness that every pair of eyes was on him threw his tirade off. The boy spun on his heels and fled, snarling at the servants to open the door for him before disappearing out of sight.

"Alexander!" Robert made a move to chase the teenager.

"Leave him be," the Empress stopped him with her words.

The grey-eyed noble protested, "But-"

Haruhiko smiled at her 'son'. "Let him cool off on his own."

After making sure that Robert conceded, Empress Haruhiko summoned two of the servants. "Arrange two chairs for Sir Robert and Prince Miguel," she ordered one, then turned to the other, "and be sure to send lunch to Crown Prince Alexander – his favourite foods." Her voice dropped, "Don't tell him it's my initiative."

"Yes!" The two scurried to comply.

Miguel and Robert settled at the head table and, once again, Empress Haruhiko performed the introductions. "These are our guests from Shin Makoku: Maou Heika and his husband Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld-Shibuya, the Great Sage, Lord Weller and Lord Gurrier." She turned to the Mazoku. "These young men are Prince Miguel, second in line to the throne, and Sir Robert. I believe you've met the Crowned Prince."

"You're not a Prince?" Yuuri asked the navy blue-haired man before he could stop himself. Realising his mistake, the king added, "Ah, that was insensitive of me. I thought, since you call Yura-san 'Hahaue'…"

"My mother is from...outside the Harem. She's not a noble so I cannot be in line for the throne. However, I can and have been exalted to the status of a knight," Robert answered before assuring the Maou, "It's alright. It's a public secret - everyone knows."

'_Translation: Kronos is an epic womanizer, but __**Sir**__ Robert can't exactly say that, now can he?' _Wolfram thought.

"I…see," Yuuri remarked absently. He was beginning to understand that traditions were upheld pretty tightly in Yekaterina. Compared to Shin Makoku… Afterall, he was able to adopt Greta on whim. Perhaps that also had something to do with the fact that Princes and Princesses did not have the right to inherit the throne before Shinou left.

"How has it been in the castle, Hahaue?" Robert turned to the mismatched-eyed woman, his grey eyes sparkling visibly. "I heard there was an attempt on a Lady of Grand Harmony's life this morning."

"Don't you worry about that." Yura smiled as she encouraged him to eat more. "It's being taken care of-"

Again, the conversation was interrupted by a pronouncement. "His Excellency Chief Investigator Sir Anthony and Superior Lady Marianne have arrived!"

The bearded middle-aged man crossed the room efficiently, composed in his billowing blue robe. On the other hand, the blonde woman that accompanied him looked worse for wear, eyes bloodshot and nose pinched red from crying. Both stopped in front of the head table. Sir Anthony bowed as Lady Marianne curtsied. "Your Majesty," the duo greeted, the woman more shakily.

"Be at ease." Empress Haruhiko raised her hand and leaned forward. "How may I help you?" She smiled.

"Your Majesty." Sir Anthony stepped closer. "You are Ms. Charlotte's mentor and you were present at the attempt on her life. I'm afraid the evidence points towards you as the main suspect in this incident." He offered his hand to his Queen. "I'm sorry but I will have to detain you."

Another moment of utter silence overcame the place. Lunch was most definitely not turning out to be a joyous occasion that day.

Robert was the first to shatter the stillness. He slammed his fists on the table, rattling the cutleries as he shot to his feet. "That's ridiculous!" he growled.

"Let's not be too hasty, shall we?" Yuuri stood up as well, his palms poised in an offering of peace. "Yura-san had been sitting with Wolfram and me all along breakfast, right, Wolfram?" The Soukoku turned to seek his husband's confirmation, which was not forthcoming. Instead, there was a guarded, contemplative expression on the blonde's face.

Yuuri's brows creased. "Wolfram…?"

Robert continued defending the Empress. "Hahaue prizes peace in the court and seeks to preserve it at all cost! She couldn't possibly have done that!"

Overwhelmed by grief, Lady Marianne came apart. "She could and she most definitely did! Haruhiko-kyo," the concubine fixed the Empress an accusing finger and screamed, "murdered Empress Pamellia!"

Yuuri turned his head so fast his neck could have snapped. His large dark eyes stared at the woman seated next to him disbelievingly. "Y-yura-san…?"

Another woman rose from amongst the rows of diners. "Marianne!" she warned the fellow consort. "Don't speak to Her Majesty insolently!"

Marianne glared at the cyan-haired woman who stood up for the Empress. "Haruhiko-kyo is not-"

"Thank you, Superior Lady Aurelia," Haruhiko's voice encompassed the space, loud and authoritative, cutting off Marianne's rant abruptly. The mismatched-eyed woman rose to her feet slowly, graciously, and made her way around the head table; the rhythmic tap of her heels the only sound in the Ballroom.

The Empress rested her fingers on the chief's proffered hand. "Sir Anthony," she flashed the gruff man a smile, "lead the way."

"Hahaue!" Robert looked ready to pounce and snatch the woman away from the other aristocrat while Miguel got up and looked like he was about to cry.

"It's all right, dear," she spoke without facing her 'sons'. "I'll only be gone for a while."

Misao held on to Miguel when the prince crumpled while several servants had to restrain the upset grey-eyed knight.

Meanwhile, Yuuri's eyes were glued to the lithe back of the mahogany-haired woman who was exiting the Ballroom, leaving chaos in her wake.

TBC

1. Hahaue: a polite form of 'Mother'.


	8. Screwed up Families II

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Screwed up (Royal) Families

Yuuri was wearing a hole on the carpet by his pacing. "She couldn't have done it!" the Maou exclaimed for the umpteenth time.

"Hai, hai," Murata replied indulgently as he leaned further on the lavish sofa in the common room in their quarter. Crossing his legs, he gestured at his friend, "So stop going round and round and round, Shibuya."

The wimpy Soukoku glared at the other Earthling for being taken lightly. Yuuri's irritation didn't dissipate when Conrad placed a hand on his godson's shoulder.

"But Ms Charlotte had been sitting so far away and Yura-san had been with us throughout breakfast!" Yuuri tried to rationalise with the judicious Sage.

"Ms Charlotte is one of Yura-han's ladies in waiting. Yura-han gets to arrange where Ms Charlotte is seated and got the poison in beforehand," Murata waved the argument off dismissively. "Though anyone with knowledge of the arrangement, which I assumed to be fixed, can easily perform the deed as well," he added contemplatively. "There is a higher chance that it was the maid who served Ms Charlotte tea who put the poison into the drink. The question was who ordered that maid to."

"But…" Yuuri didn't back down, "Yura-san didn't even try to harm Ms Charlotte when the two of them were alone in Ms Charlotte's room!"

"Which idiot will murder anyone with witnesses around?" Murata retorted. "Even if we weren't eavesdropping, if something were to happen to Ms Charlotte when the two were alone, suspicion will definitely fall on Yura-han."

"E-even then…" running out of reasons, Yuuri raked his hands through his hair and whined in frustration. "She just couldn't have-!"

"Have you forgotten?" Wolfram spoke for the first time since the 'discussion' was commenced. "Her tone when she was conversing with Ms Charlotte?" Expressive emerald eyes narrowed. "She's not the innocent, adoring, docile wife you think." _And want._

Yuuri deflated. "I remember," he surprised the demons in the room by his quiet acceptance, his head bowed. "But," when he raised his head back, his obsidian eyes were unwavering, "there was no malice in her voice. She might have put up some pretence, but not everyone who dons a mask is evil. Even Murata and Conrad wear masks."

Two pairs of eyes widened, their owners speechless at the display of uncharacteristic sensitivity while Yuuri's eyes bored into his husband, an unfathomable depth of darkness. He raised his hand and reached out to touch the full-blooded Mazoku's face, fingertips sliding over silky skin. "You didn't, Wolfram."

Wolfram stared at the part-demon he had to marry several years ago, wide green irises muddled by a flurry of conflicting emotions. _Should he be glad his suffering wasn't unnoticed? Should he be angry?_

An image flashed through the front of his mind, of the same double black bending over behind his table, hands on his face, crimson distributaries lacing those dark eyes as rivulets of tears fell to tanned cheeks.

"_What sh__ould I do?" Yuuri asked him pleadingly, fingers clenching the Bielefeld blue fabric of his uniform, the epitome of a wimp who could not fight when his daughter was about to be taken away. Their eyes had been locked too, reversed in their habits: emerald fire quelled, calm black desperate. _

The moment Wolfram was brought back to the present, Yuuri's back was disappearing to the corridors, Conrad rushing to follow the young man he'd sworn to protect. "I'll try to talk to Sir Anthony," the Maou explained without looking back.

Murata rose to his feet and approached the Prince Consort, who had been rendered still by the unexpected…confession? Scolding? Apology? The Great Sage had no name for the moment. "Denka (1)…" he attempted to console the fire-wielder.

Yozak entered the common room. His eyebrow rose at the sight of his Prince, catatonic from his perch on one of the sofas. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Wolfram appeared to have regained his bearing, leaving Murata with his hand frozen midair. "What have you discovered?"

The spy relayed his findings, the worry never leaving the sky blue of his eyes. "The investigators managed to identify the poison. The main ingredient is a highly toxic rare plant native to the land Haruhiko's family lord over."

Getting over the instantaneous awkwardness, Murata returned to the seat he'd vacated and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that's the reason for their suspicion."

Yozak nodded.

Wolfram began to pace, eyes glossed over in contemplation. "That's…strange," he opinionated seconds later.

"Don't you think so too?" Murata agreed. "There are many poisons one can concoct that are as deadly, fast-acting and undetectable. Why choose the poison with that particular ingredient?"

Yozak nodded again. "The investigators haven't discovered how such a poison could have been smuggled into the Castle," he joined the sage on the sofa. "Besides, there was no trace of the poison found when Haruhiko's quarters were searched."

"That adds to the incredulity," the reincarnated wisdom snorted, "Why not use a common, more easily obtained poison that won't so distinctly place her in the spotlight?"

"So…" Wolfram stopped wearing the carpet even thinner and gave his trusted spy a stare. "Am I right to assume that Haruhiko has been…framed?"

"That's the current hypothesis, yeah. Haruhiko should be smarter than that." Murata pushed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not too sure about that," Yozak shrugged. "The Empress hadn't been…careful with Pamellia's murder. At all. From what I gathered, that incidence had been pretty public."

Wolfram tensed, every muscle of his spine becoming taut. "Did Haruhiko really kill the late Empress?" the knowledge that the woman who had been sitting so close Yuuri in repeated occasions was capable of murder didn't sit well with the Prince Consort.

"Affirmative," Yozak answered.

"That must be why they were so quick to point fingers at her," Murata commented offhandedly. "A convenient black sheep, ready at hand."

"It's frustrating, though." Yozak huffed and scratched his head. "Haruhiko ended Pamellia's life by her own hands. It's a public secret. The details surrounding that fact, however, are a mystery. How did she manage to get acquitted, let alone become the next Empress? Why did the murder take place? How? The case file is stored in the Archive. I have to duplicate the seal so I could get in…but it's going to take time."

"So we'll wait," Murata leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, "with abated breath and on our toes."

As soon as the sentence was spoken, Wolfram spun on his heels and exited the room in search of his husband. Now that he knew there was a murderess at hand, he would not let Yuuri out of his sight.

* * *

After asking around, Yuuri and Conrad managed to find out that Yura was confined at the top of a tower in the West Wing. More questionings and servants' guidance (and ascending the 'stairway to heaven', with Conrad trying to change his mind to no avail) led the black-haired king to the room. The Maou barged in, ready to abuse his powers to release the other royalty, only to see the gruff, self-possessed Sir Anthony bowing at the Empress. "I am most sorry for the mistreatment, Your Majesty."

The mismatched-eyed beauty helped the man up graciously. Her skin was unblemished; she was not tortured during the interrogation like Yuuri had feared. "Don't mention it," the Empress smiled.

"Yu…Yura-san!" Yuuri gasped, out of breath from the climb. "A-are…y…you…"

"Here, take a rest," Haruhiko offered the Soukoku a glass of water as Conrad patted the younger half-Mazoku's back. Yuuri received it gratefully, downing the refreshing liquid in one gulp before wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Thanks," he handed the empty container to Misao, who put it away. Yuuri looked up at the dark-haired woman. "How…"

"I've been released due to lack of evidence," the near-perpetual smile on Yura's face widened. "Thank you for worrying about me, Yuuri-sama."

"Thank Goodness," Yuuri sighed in relief.

There was a knock on the door before a young investigator entered the room and bowed. "Maou Heika, Haruhiko Heika, Your Excellencies," he greeted.

Yura excused the investigator and he approached his boss immediately, whispering a few words into his ear before leaving the room again.

"Your Majesty," Sir Anthony spoke, clearing his throat when both Yuuri and Yura regarded the aristocrat. "Her Majesty," the latter corrected.

Yuuri glared at the chief investigator. The Maou didn't like the man's gruff, and at times pompous, mannerism. The fact that Sir Anthony didn't consider Yuuri a royalty did not fly over his head. This was one of the few rare times Yuuri wanted to be treated as one.

"Sir Anthony," Haruhiko rectified what could have been an intentional act of insolence quickly, "You will do well not to repeat that mistake."

"Of course," Sir Anthony didn't seem apologetic. "About the baby Ms Charlotte is carrying," he steered the conversation by plunging straight into business.

The Empress let it pass, nodded and urged him to continue.

"Misao had informed us that Ms Charlotte's name is not in the Book of Summoning around the predicted conceive dates. I sent several investigators to re-check her claim and they have confirmed it," he notified with a sombre tone.

"It's definite, then," the smile fled Yura's face completely. The look in her dual-coloured eyes was impassive. "Ms Charlotte had committed adultery."

Anthony nodded. "To think that she tries to pass it as Kranos Heika's…" resentment flitted through the normally unruffled man's face and Yuuri's eyes widened. Anthony noticed his slip and he cleared his throat again. "About the punishment…" the chief investigator began, cool as cucumber.

"Death, according to the Law," Empress Haruhiko finished, throwing her gaze to the floor. "Put her on house arrest as you investigate her lover. Don't let her escape. Follow the procedures, Sir Anthony."

"Yes, Your Majes-"

"H-Hold on!" Yuuri raised his hands. "What is going on? D-death? Why? Why did you even deduce that her baby is not Kranos Heika's?"

"Calm down, Yuuri-sama," Yura attempted to soothe the dark-eyed king and Yuuri barely prevented himself from glaring at her. How could he relax? The Empress detected the dark look and set out to explain. "Each time Kranos Heika summons his wives, our names will be written in the Book of Summoning, together with the dates, the time we enter his private chamber and the time we leave. Then the Emperor signs beside each name. This practice has been implemented since the eunuch system had been eliminated, and strictly adhered to."

Yuuri shuddered when the word 'eunuch' was mentioned and refrained from asking (and deflecting from the matter at hand). "What if Kranos Heika didn't summon Ms Charlotte but visited her quarter instead? That's also possible, right?" he argued.

"If that's the case, the soldiers or servants guarding the quarter knew to write her name in the Book of Summoning and Kranos Heika still had to sign beside her name," Empress Haruhiko retorted. "Every servant, every soldier, every concubine and every emperor who ever lived in the Palace is aware of this centuries-old practice and never neglects to follow it like a reflex. Emperors of Yekaterina have many wives and it is important to make sure they are loyal to their husbands."

"E-even so!" Yuuri persisted. Death for cheating, that was too extreme! It was not fair that the Emperor could sleep with any woman he liked, but his wives were not given the same privilege. "It's unjust!" he voiced his opinion.

"In the first place, the Emperor's wives belong to him, and it is a crime to let others steal Heika's possession-"

"Possession?" Yuuri gaped, disbelief flooding the obsidian irises. "How can you-"

"Heika," Conrad touched his godson on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. He didn't have to bend down anymore – Yuuri was almost his height. "Males and females may enjoy a semblance of equality in Shin Makoku's higher court, but Yekaterina chooses to abide by another system, one we as guests will be too impudent to…"

Yuuri gritted his teeth in exasperation. "Why death? Why such a fatale punishment?"

"Anyone born by the concubines reserve the right to inherit the throne," Yura's tranquillity only served to aggravate Yuuri even further. "It's treachery for a concubine to claim that a commoner's child is an heir and raise him or her as a Prince or a Princess"

When the Maou didn't seem like he was backing down, Sir Anthony spoke up, unexpectedly, his skin flushed with anger. "For a commoner's child to enjoy the luxuries that are not his birthright - that is akin to stealing from the Royal Treasury! What if a commoner ends up as the next Emperor? What if someone with the blood of an enemy gets to rule over Yekaterina?"

Yuuri didn't understand. He couldn't. Someone born and raised in a country where almost everyone is equal just could not fathom the need to protect bloodlines.

Yuuri did, however, want to form an alliance between Shin Makoku and Yekaterina. His aggressiveness could ruin any chance of peace and diplomatic relations between the two nations. So the Soukoku took deep, calming breaths, counted to ten soundlessly, and closed his eyes. After a while, he spoke again, his voice steady yet there was no mistaking the authority in the timbre. "I wish to have an audience with Kranos Heika."

Stupefied by the complete non sequitur, the Yekaterians could only stand still as the Maou spun on his heels and exited the room. By the time the Soukoku was running down the long, long stairway, Yura had just stepped over the doorway. "Yuuri-sama-"

"The servants might have forgotten to write Ms Charlotte's name in the Book of Summoning," Yuuri insisted stubbornly, "Kronos Heika might have visited in the middle of the night, where the servants had fallen asleep…or may be they were changing shifts!" he came out with excuses after excuses as he rushed down, two stairs at a time. "In any case, Kronos Heika should remember going into Ms Charlotte's bed! He'll resolve this misunderstanding!"

Yuuri nearly collided against Wolfram in the staircase as the two were headed in opposite directions. "Henachoko (2)!" The blonde whipped his head around and grabbed his husband's upper arm, fingers curled tightly around the fabric swathing the flesh. "I've been looking for you! From now on, you have to stick by me-"

The Maou swatted the hand away with a resounding slap. "Now is not the time!" he retorted, the lines of his face firm, almost harsh. "Bother me later!" he continued his descend.

If Yuuri were to look back, he would see shock and desolation invading the bishounen face he was reluctant to mar. Conrad had to chase his godson and could only spare his dear brother a concerned glance.

Resignation crept under the quavering blonde lashes before Wolfram saw the Empress dashing after the Maou, pleading, "Yuuri-sama, please reconsider!" The fire-wielder's resolve to stick around Yuuri was steeled, thorn to his side notwithstanding. His King's safety came before his feelings.

Yuuri traversed the massive compound one more time, ignoring the aches in his legs. The servants were obedient enough to point the route when he barked his questions. Sir Anthony and the Empress could not stop him, anyways. As sovereign of a neighbouring country with evenly-matched military powers, Yuuri reserved the right to see Kranos.

The two soldiers guarding the Emperor's bedroom obstructed Yuuri from the door. "Maou Heika, Kranos Heika is currently occupied-" said one of them.

"The matter I wish to discuss with Kranos Heika is of utmost importance," the half-Mazoku insisted and pushed his way through. "Kranos Heika, I am most sorry to disturb you but-"

Yuuri halted so abruptly Conrad nearly crashed into his back and Wolfram stumbled in his attempt to prevent the collision. "Yuuri!" the Prince huffed. "Why did you-" The breath left the blonde's lungs when his emerald eyes followed his husband's line of sight.

In front of the Mazokus, on the large four-poster bed, sat a handsome man, strands of navy blue hair falling to his high cheekbones and obscuring one amethyst eye. Though in his forties, his form was fit, slender muscles filling his nude torso and abdomen.

The problem?

The man had his tongue in the throat of a very, very skimpily dressed, sexy young woman and his cock in the throat of another whose head he was cradling on his lap.

TBC

1. Denka: His Highness

2. Henachoko: wimp

A/N: Talk about being caught in a compromising situation, huh. Anyways, I'm sorry for the late update. My beta had been too busy to proofread this chapter. And I'd like to announce that The Consort will be on hiatus due to lack of interest. The number of reviews has been declining steadily, and I've sort-of moved on to Code Geass. You'll have to convince me otherwise to motivate me to continue writing this. I've sort-of sensed that readers don't like it when I write too much about Yekaterina's royalties. I know I should focus of KKM characters, but the plot will involve a lot of the intrigues of the relationships between OCs. If you can't take the level of involvement of the OCs now, then I shouldn't bother writing more.

My utmost apologies,

Aria


	9. Screwed up Families III

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Screwed up (Royal) Families

"Ack!" Yuuri squeaked and turned away, covering his eyes with his hands as his tanned skin flushed crimson. "Eh, umm, I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" he babbled in embarrassment, praying to the Gods to erase the image from his mind.

Conrad and Wolfram turned away as well, the later dark red to the roots of his yellow hair.

The trio waited for a while before a guttural groan could be heard (the shade of red of the royal couple of Shin Makoku became darker), followed by the patter of footsteps against the tiles and the swishing of fabric against skin. "You can look, now." A tenor voice reverberated in the air, boyish and playful. Strangely, it also held a silky, almost sensuous undertone.

Yuuri turned and pried his hands off one eye. The amethyst-eyed king was somewhat dressed, a silky beige bathrobe covering his frame, and the women hid under the sheets. The Maou sighed and uncovered his face completely as Kranos was tying the belt around his waist. "Black hair and eyes…You must be Maou Heika." A smirk graced his lips. "Did you enjoy the voyeur?"

Yuuri's cheeks barely returned to tan before he blushed again. "K-Kranos Heika!" he scrambled at thin air. "I-I didn't mean to-"

The older ruler stared at the Maou before he chuckled. "You're interesting."

Sir Anthony and the soldiers dropped to their knees, and the Empress curtsied as deeply as she could. "I am deeply sorry, Kranos Heika," Haruhiko pleaded, "It was not our intention to perturb you."

"I don't mind," Kranos shrugged and rested his hands on his hip. "Be at ease. And get me the Book of Summoning."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" one of the two soldiers excused themselves and returned quickly with a green velvet-bound tome. Kranos reached for the quill rested on the opened page. "Show me your insignias," he spoke as he twirled the thin piece of feather between his fingers.

"Yes!" The two ladies under the covers retrieved something from the pile of clothes at the corner of the bed and brought up planks of jade, one name carved on each one. Kranos peered at them before signing the book. "That's that," he dropped the quill back onto the page.

Yuuri was reminded of the purpose of his visit. "Kranos Heika," he straightened his back and turned to the Emperor. "I wish to speak to you about-"

The frantic knocking on the door interrupted the Soukoku. "Heika!" a bespectacled panicky young man barged in. "I come as soon as I heard you're finished-" he blinked at the company, "Her Majesty!"

"Marquis Ashford," Yura curtsied again. "Matters of the State?"

"Piling!" the noble replied. Mannerism could be forgone in dire circumstances. "The season is going to change, yet the budget hasn't been finalised-"

"It's finalised!" Kranos looked annoyed. "I told you to relay to Duke Stuart to reduce the tax of the northern regions from 40% to 25% during winters!"

"The extraction sites are there!" Ashford retorted. "The people can afford to-"

"Prices of food will definitely increase in winter," the Empress supplied, "The people have to fork out more for food from other provinces, not to mention dry firewood. The blizzards are terrible up north."

"The fund for the paving of roads-"

"I told you to increase the price of exported iron," Kranos spoke with an ill-suffering voice. "There is high demand in Big Shimaron. It's not going to cut our throats."

"I see your reasons…b-but…" Ashford frowned.

"You let the dukes and marquises in the parliament push you around, don't you?" Kranos crossed his arms and gave the young noble a stare.

The bespectacled man was silent, his head bowed.

Kranos sighed. "If you can't overcome it before the next change of season I'm demoting you, Ashford," he said calmly, "That's not the way to be an Administrator of the State."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Ashford saluted. "Thank you for granting me another chance. I have arranged an assembly with the parliament. The Court is waiting for you." He retreated as soon as Kranos dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"So you've heard, Maou Heika," the navy-blue-haired man turned to the demon king and gave him a playful grin, "seems that I can't listen to your request now."

"Haa…" Yuuri was at a lost for words. He couldn't insist, yet he didn't know when Ms Charlotte could be executed. Besides, Kranos had that effect on him, made him speechless. The middle-aged ruler reminded Yuuri of…of Shinou: a handsome, wilful, mischievous yet capable king.

"Later, or tomorrow, perhaps…" Kranos was turning to his closet to choose his attire for the meeting when his eyes met Wolfram's. The blonde started to become uncomfortable when the Emperor stared at him unblinkingly. "You are…"

"Wolfram von Bielefeld-Shibuya, Prince Consort of the 27th Maou," the fire-wielder bowed. "I'm honoured to meet you, Kranos Heika."

"Wolfram Denka…I have heard about you," Kranos reached out to take the green-eyed demon's hand and kissed the back of his hand. When he looked up, the intensity of his amethyst eyes held Wolfram's gaze. "You're more beautiful than rumoured."

This time, Wolfram's blush had nothing to do with embarrassment and more to do with the effects of flattery. Compliments and sweet words used to affect him the same way a total of a pinch of salt would to the ocean, in a period the pureblood Mazoku had labelled 'before Yuuri'. After the infamous slap, most were wary of getting close to their king's betrothed. After the marriage…well, the blonde hadn't received a single sexual gesture for quite possibly near a decade. _Sexual is different from intimate. Friends and family members can insinuate intimate gestures. Sexual gestures end, more often than not, in romps, which he hadn't had in near a decade, too._

Yuuri stared at this Emperor of a womaniser flirting with a male and several emotions gnawed at his insides. The first was easily recognised as disbelief. He'd seen this human contentedly copulating with not just one, but two voluptuous, extremely effeminate (i.e. well-endowed) women just a moment ago…and Kranos had a harem brimming with the fairer sex…how could he-? The second…was something akin to possessiveness…and that, he didn't - _didn't want to_ – understand. He'd given Wolfram away happily to Elizabeth years ago, but now…

"Come to think of it…" Kranos let go of Wolfram and raised both his hands when two maids came to remove his robe, and another held the set of clothes he'd chosen. Yuuri and his spouse averted their eyes again, the crimson tinge taking a permanent residence on their cheeks. The Emperor simply had no modesty! "I haven't done anything to welcome our guests, have I?"

_Well, you must be__ too busy fucking._ Yuuri thought.

Haruhiko cleared her throat purposefully and Yuuri realised that he'd forgotten about her presence for a while. Kranos was larger than life. "I had organised a dinner with the upper harem yesterday night."

"That's not enough," Kranos dismissed the helpers with a wave of his hand and fastened the button of his collars on his own, peering into the mirror on the dresser as he fastened the ends of his cape with a golden pin. The fabric was velvet, the amethyst colour regal and matched the man's piercing eyes. His clothes were dark blue, so dark it was nearly black, with raised design of a golden dragon embroidered to the belt and the sleeves. Charisma oozed out of his pores like pheromones, the disposition of an Emperor apparent in his gaits, even when he was naked and acting like a perverted uncle. Kronos, unlike Yuuri, was born and groomed to be a leader. "We should have a party tonight," the Emperor of Yekaterina spoke seriously.

The non sequitur threw everyone off. "Huh?" Yuuri barely made a vague response when the thin bespectacled noble let out a wail. "Heika! At this late a notice? How about the preparations?"

"The party will enable me to introduce the Maou to the members of the parliament, and you can tell me your concerns tonight," Kranos grinned. "Two birds, one stone. Don't you think that's neat, Ashford?"

The poor man was about to hyperventilate. "B-but-"

"I'll take care of the food and the decorations," the Empress volunteered. "It can be done," she spoke confidently.

Yuuri understood how it felt to work with people with impossible strengths. He could sympathise with that flailing Administrator of Yekaterina's State. "The invitations?"

"I'm going to have an assembly with the parliament, am I not? Let the husbands inform the wives once they're home," Kronos countered, shrugging.

Ashford seemed an inch away from tearing his hair. "If you're ready we should proceed, Your Majesty," he stated instead.

Since that idiot of a husband had his eyes on _Ashford_ (of all people!), Wolfram intercepted Kranos' path to the door. "I would like to express my gratitude, Your Majesty," the blonde gave the human a polite smile, "I really appreciate your consideration. I don't know how I can repay your kindness."

Yuuri turned his head away from the frustrated marquis to find Kranos laying one hand on Wolfram's face, the same spot his own palm had vacated. The Emperor rubbed his thumb on the soft skin over that fine cheekbone and leaned close, sharing the same square of breath. "You can dress well for the party, Wolfram Denka. I'll be delighted to lay my eyes on the exquisite beauty you'll be in the famed black finery of Shin Makoku. Not that you aren't a beauty now…" his soft whispers were still too loud in the Maou's ears.

The unnamed beast under his ribcage snarled again, the possessiveness boiling under his skin. It must have been palpable, for Kronos left the Prince Consort immediately and Haruhiko and Conrad gave the double black a worried stare. Yuuri quickly re-assembled his facial expressions.

"Please excuse me, Yuuri-sama," the Empress curtsied again, "I have a party to prepare. Misao can lead you back."

"Thank you!" the cheeriness of his grin didn't reach his eyes. Wolfram became quiet again, too quiet, but he stuck to Yuuri's side as they traversed the castle back to their quarter, so everything couldn't have gone wrong, could they?

* * *

Murata looked up from the book he was leafing through when the door to the quarter creaked open to admit the royal couple, whose faces looked like they had just bitten an extremely sour and nasty lime. Yozak, who was snoozing on the couch next to the Great Sage, the muscular frame of his body slouched over half the furniture, locks of wavy carrot strands spilled over the beige cushion, peeked one blue eye open. There was a sinister shadow over Conrad's commonly amiable countenance. Murata and Yozak shared a quick look before rising to their feet. "What happened?" the half-Mazoku spy asked carefully.

The Maou flinched, frown deepening as though he was sucker-punched. His blonde spouse seemed equally troubled, cupid bow's lips pursed to thin lines. The voice of reason, the second son of the 26th Maou forced a smile on his face. "We briefly encountered Kranos Heika just now. He's throwing us a welcoming party to introduce us to Yekaterina's parliament tonight."

Murata blinked, marked the book by folding the corner of the page (Gunter would mince him if the lilac-haired Mazoku was here), and put it down slowly. "We got what we've been working for since our arrival," he pronounced each syllable carefully, waiting for rebuttal. When none was forthcoming, he tilted his head in puzzlement, "why are you so gloomy, then?"

"…Shinou," Yuuri muttered darkly.

"Huh?" Murata blinked again. What did the Original King have to do with this?

"Kranos!" the youngest half-Mazoku burst like a balloon, ranting on and on. "He's just like Shinou! The cocky grin, the unabashed arrogance! He didn't even care he was naked-"

Two pairs of eyebrows shot up. "Naked?" Murata repeated, dark eyes wide, jaw dropping. Yozak shot Conrad a questioning look, but the latter shook his head. "Don't ask."

Yuuri blushed to the roots of his hair. "I admit it's my fault for barging to his room and c-catching him in a…c-compromising po-position," Yuuri continued. Finally catching on the situation, Yozak doubled over and laughed so hard he cried, one hand clutching his abdomen. The Maou flushed impossibly redder, his skin a shade away from that of a tomato's. "Don't mock me!"

Murata bit the insides of his cheeks to prevent the laughter from bubbling out of his throat. "I don't!"

Yuuri gave his friend a beady-eyed glare that meant, 'You so do!' before he slumped, head bowed, shoulder blades lowering. The Great Sage noted this sudden lack of spirit with alarm. "Kranos…he's also as capable as Shinou," the frown on Yuuri's face deepened.

The ensuing silence sucked the air out off lungs. No one spoke until Yozak lowered himself on the couch again. "That's bad," he opinioned softly.

The contagious frown infected Murata. "Well…" he paced to one of the tall windows, "since the Imperial Consort is a capable woman, I had hoped the Emperor will be someone…who shifts his weight around. Such is the trend in history. You can't have two suns on the throne. They'll burn each other out." He leaned on the sill and placed his chin on his hand, his gaze pensive.

"I can bet that the parliament didn't have any say in this," Yozak added, "It must have been Kranos' decision entirely."

"Or her influence over him," Murata's eyes re-emerged from the glint of his spectacles, "either way, we can't say for sure till we see Kranos Heika."

Yuuri didn't understand how the other Soukoku could have that Cheshire cat grin on his face when the situations were as dire as he proclaimed. "…what?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"You do realize that we're going to a party, don't you?" Murata chirped, as though the party would be fun instead of a thinly veiled political battleground. "That means good food, dances and beautiful wo-clothes!" He corrected himself before the word was out of his mouth. Manhandling the protesting Yuuri to his room, the Great Sage tried to fill the air with as much sound as he could. "We'll have to dress you up! Make you more presentable…" his voice trailed off when the door closed behind him.

Yozak turned to Wolfram, who hadn't budged a single inch, the emerald gems on his face conflicted. The ginger-haired half-Mazoku approached the male he'd recently sworn his loyalty to. "Need any help, Your Highness?" he asked good-naturedly, threading on thin ice.

The Prince Consort looked up at the muscled spy abruptly, as though surprised by his presence. "No, thank you. I'm all right," Wolfram gave him a tight smile, before he too, stalked to his room.

* * *

Yuuri was running late. Again.

It wasn't his fault this time, though. He'd been awake. The blame was Murata's. The supposedly wise man insisted that the best suit the Maou had brought to Yekaterina could have some improvements (Yuuri just didn't understand how his clothes could be made better. They were always predominantly black) and called the best seamstresses in town to get the job done in mere hours. The pair of brown-haired sisters was kind enough not to snap at Murata when he was continually hurrying them.

Ten minutes before the timing a messenger had informed them earlier, Yuuri finally managed to slip one arm to the sleeve. ("Don't worry!" the Sage assured him. "It's okay for the guest of honour to arrive fashionably late.") Stealing one glance at the mirror, he finally admitted Murata's talents. His black shirt had crimson silk and raised patterns of ivies sewn to the collar and the sleeves, finely embroidered lions decorating the bottom of the knee-length black jacket. White ruffles peeked out of the end of his sleeves (which had been enlarged), a touch that displayed nobility instead of femininity he'd feared. Golden dust was sprinkled on the fur lining of his lush red cape, which had been draped over only one shoulder, a golden chain connecting the fabric together. The weight of his bejeweled crown perched almost awkwardly on the top of his head. His gloves felt itchy, his palms hot and damp underneath. He longed to wring the suffocating fabrics off, put down the gold headdress; no matter how many times he'd worn his ceremonial gabs, he often felt like a Cinderella, a boy playing dress-up. Yuuri disliked this aspect of being a king.

The devil of a Daikenja himself looked dashing in his own suit, blue and silvery tinges accentuating the black fabric, crescent moons and rolling waves embroidered to the jacket, robes and tunics covering parts of his body.

Yuuri's eyebrows twitched. "You only modified my suit so that you can look good yourself, right?"

Murata humoured his friend with a laugh. "Well, it will not do for the Great Sage to outdo the Maou." For a moment, his dark eyes hid behind the flash of his lenses again. "But I really think you need it. Attire is a weapon in exerting one's authority."

The King of Shin Makoku lowered his gaze. "I know," he replied, solemn. He'd started to understand his duties, and the importance of certain decorum.

Yozak and Conrad waited for the duo in the common room. Conrad was in his full regalia, his formal khaki military uniform with some badges on his chest, the leather of his boots polished to a shine. Yozak…well, Yozak was a sight, with his hair tamed and tied to a low ponytail, his vest blue as the sky of his eyes, covering a white shirt with a plunging neckline, tucked to a pair of snug tan-coloured pants, coppery buttons shining from his dark blue coat.

The spy grinned at the floored expression on his king's face. "You can't tell that I'm a commoner, right?"

Yuuri returned the grin. "A perfect disguise!" He noticed someone was missing and looked around. "Where's Wolfram?"

"He should be ready soon…" Conrad answered in his brother's behalf seconds before the demon in question stepped out of his room.

Every inch of his skin, save his face, was covered in black: his boots, the pants that hugged his slender legs, his silky shirt, with large ascot-like ruffles decorating the collar and smaller laces along the seams down his torso. The tiniest bits of green patterns adorned the black jacket.

For the briefest moment Yuuri was transported to the past, back to his own wedding, within the grey brick walls of Shinou's temple. The three boxes had been temporarily stored away. Wolfram was standing in front of Murata and Ulrike on the altar as Yuuri walked on the aisles, immediate family members and the Ten Nobles witnesses of the ritual seated on both sides of the carpeted path. Yuuri recalled how…radiant his husband-to-be had been, white and golden from the tip of his hair to his toe: the yellow lining of the cream-coloured knee-length coat, the golden buttons and embroideries, the unblemished silk shirt, the chiming chains over his torso, the translucent lacy cape, the liquid sun curls resting on pale smooth skin. The gems of his eyes shone brighter than fine emeralds, the vivid colour standing out. Yuuri couldn't remember reciting the vows he'd worked so hard to memorise, his eyes glued to the figure next to him. Yuuri remembered draping his husband with a black shawl in the ceremony, a symbol of possession, remembered Wolfram's costume in the reception, black replacing any other colours, and hated it.

Wolfram might be a pureblooded _demon_, and a proud one at that, but in Yuuri's mind, Wolfram would always have the image of an angel; a fierce one, at times, but an angel nevertheless. He didn't mind a bit of black on Wolfram – the black shirt with bielefeld blue linings the blonde always wore under the cloak with a cute, large white ribbon on it, for example – but too much black botched Wolfram's complexion to a sickly pallor, tarnished him. Coupled with his weight loss (due to muscles atrophies and gastric problems from the stress of his new role), black made him seem lifeless: a beautiful doll he fought hard from becoming. Yuuri hated, hated the colour black on Wolfram, and was thankful he'd normally kept to wearing just one article of black clothing. But now…

"Take it off!" Obsidian orbs rounding, the words left the Maou's mouth before he registered the fact that he'd spoken. An arm moving in a swishing gesture, Yuuri took a few steps to his consort. "Change it!"

Wolfram flinched, green irises widening in shock and…hurt? "Change what?" he backed away a little, following his instincts, before standing stiff as a board, the lines around his lips taut, chin held in place as he looked up to his spouse. Everyone but the demon King noticed one quivering hand he hid behind the small of his back, the crease between the yellow brows.

"The jacket, the boots, the pants – any one!" Yuuri looked upset, his chest heaving on each intake of breath. "You-" he covered his face and refrained from mussing his gelled hair, taking a moment to calm himself. When he continued, his voice was way, way smaller. "You're wearing too much black…"

Wolfram couldn't exhale the breath he'd taken. His facial muscles were too still, his digestion system a wreck, and his limbs…he couldn't trust them.

Yozak stepped to his king. "Heika, there is no time for this-"

"I want it changed!" Yuuri interrupted petulantly. He had on his face _that_ expression, which said that he wouldn't back down lest his wish be obeyed.

Murata took the role of a fashion advisor. "The boots and the pants will take too long to change," he tried so, so hard to dissolve the butter-melting tension, one finger pressing against the flesh of his thumb, a reminder to not snap at his best friend. "The jacket's the best pick."

Yozak assisted the Daikenja immediately. Striding to Wolfram's room, he didn't even seek His Highness' permission before he turned the doorknob. "We'll see what we have." He hid his curse under his smile. "Of all times…"

Conrad and Wolfram remained outside when Yuuri followed Yozak and the other Soukoku. The former stared at his baby brother, the Mazoku he'd treasured, and wished there wasn't such a wide berth between them, wished he was allowed to feel resentment to the source of Wolfram's pains. Above all, he wished he could do _something_.

The trio didn't take long. Yuuri went out carrying a high-collared cream jacket that ended slightly above the waist, with golden oriental decorative buttons lining the opening and intricate patterns of feathers embroidered to the sleeves, and presented it to his husband. "Wear this instead," he stated curtly.

Biting his lips, Wolfram let his black jacket slip to the floor and shoved his arms to the sleeves, convinced all ways to nine the clothes didn't match. Once he was done, Yuuri looked him over. Satisfied, the king gave a small nod and went out of their quarter.

The march along the corridors was quiet, too quiet. Everyone but the royal couple stared ahead, hard edges apparent in the glint of their irises. Yuuri's head was bowed, while Wolfram busied himself with making sure not a thread was out of place, blinking ever so slightly to retain the tears in his eyes. Before long, the troupe saw the double doors leading to the hall opened wide. Laughter and music drifted to their ears, merry in the pretence. They could see the silhouettes of the two guards stationed at the sides, bright lights from the inside casting shadows on the stoic figures.

Said guards caught sight of them, turned and bellowed an announcement. "His Majesty, the 27th Demon King, his Prince Consort, His Eminence and His Excellencies have arrived!"

Yuuri stepped up, leading his entourage, the lines of his face so set he looked almost severe. Wolfram took his 'place' next to him and readied his mask, praying to all Gods but Shinou the glass piece wouldn't shatter anytime tonight.

The blonde was very, very surprised when a gloved hand slipped into his own, warm, heavy and comforting. "I'm sorry," Yuuri rasped, a rough whisper, obsidian irises still trained to the party inside, "I-I needed to do that."

'_You need a lot of things, Yuuri_,' Wolfram thought, his free hand clenching tightly.

"…Wolf?" at the lack of response, the Maou turned to the fire-wielder ever so slightly, vulnerability and longing apparent in the timbre, the former more so.

Wolfram squeezed his husband's hand. "Let's go," he murmured, and took a deep breath before one of his legs moved forward. Yuuri followed, and they entered the battlefield together.

TBC


	10. Screwed up Families Finale

Chapter 2

Screwed up (Royal) Families Finale

The large space Yuuri recalled eating his (rudely interrupted) lunch in had been transformed to something out of a fairytale. The floor had been thoroughly scrubbed, bringing out the shine of the vivid colours of the floral patterns on the marble tiles. A tableau of buffet delicacies were laid down next to the circular tables set aside for the diners. Lush amethyst tapestries were draped over beige walls, fluttering by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The crystals of giant chandeliers scattered artificial lights to tiny rainbows, dancing on pale skins of the couples waltzing in the middle of the room. A group of musicians at the corner played lovely tunes to sway to. Most guests, radiant in multi-coloured fineries, were mingling, thin delicate stems of wine glasses in gloved hands, plastic pleasantries exchanged in varying pitches.

The sensory overload assaulting the Maou was about to make him dizzy, the hand in his fingers his only anchor, but a single distinct voice reached his ears and salvaged him. "Yuuri-sama!"

The dark-eyed royalty looked up to find Haruhiko approaching him. She was wearing an amber mermaid-line dress that stuck to her feminine curves like a second skin. Her dark hair was curled and tied to one side, translucent shawl covering the frame of her shoulders, golden beads hanging from the linings. The ever-present smile was etched on her face, though the curl of her lips seemed more…strained? Yuuri could never be sure; he wasn't that good at reading people, favouring trust over suspicion.

"Yura-san," Yuuri nodded in greeting, "You look exceptionally beautiful," he complimented her, "and the decoration's awesome! I admire you for manage this much in a day. Gunter, a friend I have back home who's good at party-planning, may not achieve this." _Because he'll spend a few hours panicking first_, Yuuri thought inwardly, a pang hitting his heart abruptly. He missed Gunter, he realised, and the lilac-haired Mazoku's antics. He missed Greta. He missed home.

Behind him, Murata and Yozak peered at each other discreetly, noting the lines of tension on the Yekaterian Empress' demeanour with caution.

"You're too kind," the mismatched-eyed royalty responded to the compliment. Normally, the statement would have been accompanied by the widening of the curl of her lips, but her smile seemed almost stuck in place. Something was wrong. "Few of these were my doing. I had the assistance of many Superior Ladies," she added modestly. "By myself, I'm incompetent."

Yuuri was about to deny the self-degrading comment when he was interrupted. "Don't let that lull you to a false sense of security," a tenor voice chimed in, playful yet silky, authority hiding in the childish petulance.

The nobles surrounding the guests from Shin Makoku parted to provide a path for a tall, leanly muscular figure, dark blue hair combed away from masculine square-jawed face. Sharp amethyst eyes stared back into surprised rounded obsidian irises, steely and analytical before gleaming mischievously as thin lips arced to a grin. "Fashionably late, Yuuri-Heika?"

"Kranos-Heika," Yuuri replied awkwardly and told his hand to stray away from his hair. He had this habit of scratching the back of his head whenever he was nervous, and it used to annoy Wolfram so much. "That wasn't my intention," he offered his right hand.

Swathed in velvety fabrics that complemented his facial features, intricate pattern of earth's riches embroidered in gold threads and a deep royal purple cloak resting on his broad shoulders, Kranos looked every inch an Emperor, shrouded by inborn charisma and raw power. Even though the crown on his head was way smaller and simpler than Yuuri's, the younger king still felt like a man playing dress-up, undeserving of his station. The Maou seldom felt the weight of ruling a kingdom upon his shoulders, preferring to focus on each encounter, each negotiation and war prevention as a hurdle to be overcome one by one, because he still felt overwhelmed by the big picture. Kranos appeared like nothing would ever faze him.

The grip around Wolfram's hand tightened. The blonde's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't turn to his husband. Instead his thumb rubbed soothing circles on Yuuri's skin, through the silk of the black gloves, and the tension in the Maou's body disintegrated.

"That was a joke," Kranos winked and accepted Yuuri's hand. "Should I be jealous that my dear Empress had been so quick to notice you?" His other arm snaked behind Haruhiko's back to wrap her waist.

Murata and Yozak most definitely did not imagine the woman's flinch.

"No, you shouldn't," as Yuuri fretfully babbled his reply, as though feeling the weight of the two's stare on one of his wives, Kranos' eyes moved slowly towards them.

"Black hair and black eyes; you must be the rumoured Soukoku Daikenja," the Emperor spoke interestedly, "What would I give to have a wise man with 2000 years of experience by my side?" he released Yuuri's hand and offered his hand to the Great Sage.

"I'd accept your firstborn son," Murata joked as large, strong fingers curled around his own young, slender ones. Kranos had a warrior's hand, a firm grip, and a Deity's confidence. Murata saw the human's resemblances to Shinou, and understood his Maou's queasiness. Shibuya wasn't afraid of the blonde king because he knew that despite any chaos and qualms he might have caused and could possibly cause, Shinou supported Shibuya, and believed in him. Kranos' motives, however, remained in the shadows.

"Sorry, no can do," the Emperor pretended to sigh, "Alexander will keep your hands full."

'_Alexander,' _Yuuri echoed, inwardly. '_Not Robert. He didn't acknowledge him as his son.'_ Then, what about Ms. Charlotte, whose life he was trying to save? Would Kranos hand her the death sentence?

"You'll be surprised," Murata smiled back, and retreated politely while Yozak stepped up and offered his hand. "Yozak Gurrier. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kranos Heika."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, His Excellency," Kranos shook his hand courteously.

"A-ano," Yuuri approached the Emperor, determined to present his case, "There is something I'd like to requ-"

But Kranos didn't seem to pay attention to the younger king. His eyes were looking at a spot across the space, following someone's movement. "Follow me, Yuuri-Heika," he stated without looking at the black-haired half-Mazoku, his feet striding away, the crowd parting like the red sea in his command, as he pulled the Empress with him.

The Maou had no choice but to trail after Kranos, keeping Wolfram's hand in his as well.

The four of them traversed the Ballroom before Yuuri caught the familiar gangly figure of Ashford, who was talking with another man. The latter looked around sixty years old, his belly slightly rounded, pompous in attire and visage. He had a faint resemblance to the gangly Administrator of the State Yuuri had been introduced to earlier, whom the older man seemed to be...scolding?

As soon as Kranos and Haruhiko entered Ashford's view, he took the opportunity to greet them enthusiastically. "Kranos Heika, Haruhiko Heika!" he turned away from the other man and bowed deeply. He was still casting sheepish glances at the begrudged man as he complimented the Empress. "You looked radiant! The party is so wonderful no one would know that you had such a short time planning it. You're very capable."

"Thank you so much. Many had helped me. By myself, I'm nothing," she replied him, before curtsying to the elderly man. "Prime Minister Ashford, I hope you're enjoying the party."

The politician's resentment for the women was entirely unveiled. "Your helpers have the taste," he stated leeringly, before bowing slightly at his sovereign. "Kranos Heika."

"Ashford Sr." By the smirk on his face, the Emperor clearly left out the title purposely. "Frowning will accelerate your aging."

A vein throbbed on Ashford Sr.'s temple. "I wish Heika will refrain from speaking merry of me." The curl of his lips was strained.

"The court needs humour." Murata noticed that Kranos' grip around the Empress' waist had creased the dress. The line of tension on the woman's shoulders became more visible. "Right, Ashford Jr.?" The blue-haired royalty turned to the son.

"Eh? Ah..." the awkward young man was trapped between a lion and a cliff. "Um..."

Kranos seemed to have mercy for the administrator. "Prime Minister, I'm sure you've heard of Yuuri Heika, the 27th Maou," he gestured at Yuuri, who was watching the power struggle in a daze. He quickly snapped to awareness once he'd been introduced, and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Prime Minister Ashford. I hope we can get along well." The Soukoku smiled amiably.

The arrogant noble eyed the proffered limb for a moment before shaking it reluctantly.

"And not to forget, his beautiful spouse," Kranos spoke the second last word with a seductive roll of his tongue, like honey gliding over a rough surface, "Sir Wolfram von Bielefeld-Shibuya." He sent the pureblood Mazoku a suggestive gaze.

The blonde ignored it pointedly, bowing to hide the faint hues of pink on his pale, pale, horribly revealing skin. "Prime Minister Ashford, I'm honoured to make your acquaintance." His right hand was still encased by Yuuri's left one, and he didn't want to let go to shake the human's hand.

"Pleased to make yours," fortunately the Prime Minister looked as apathetic about a handshake as Wolfram, his voice droning monotonously. "Kranos Heika, if you don't mind, I have something to discuss with my son."

"I'll be on my way, then," Kranos said in his trademark jovial tone. "Don't be too harsh on the boy," he waved as he turned away.

True to his word, Kranos introduced Yuuri to the Ministers of Yekaterina who were present, and some of the influential nobles. Most of them did not take to the guests from Shin Makoku warmly, and those who did, Yuuri questioned the authenticity of their gestures. Large human kingdoms and empires tended to be hostile, considering that they had enough power to stand a chance against Shin Makoku's army if a war should arise. Each time he felt afraid and unsure, Yuuri was grateful that his husband stood by his side, a moral support, while Murata turned on his charms and displayed his diplomatic prowess.

After a while, the troupe took a break from small talks to fill their stomachs. For the first time after stepping onto the Ballroom, Yuuri released Wolfram's hand for a prolonged period of time, and the blonde felt a pang at the loss of warmth.

Meanwhile, still not forgetting of the goal he set out to do, Yuuri approached the other ruler again. "Kranos Heika," the Soukoku started.

"Yuuri Heika," the amethyst-eyed man put down the cutleries and reached for a napkin. He wiped his mouth and hands briefly before rising to his feet. "Would you mind lending me your beautiful husband for a dance?"

"I have something to...huh?" Yuuri stopped speaking halfway and blinked, baffled by the non-sequitur. "Ah..."

Mistaking the sound for consent, (or really, he was disregarding the Maou's opinion, whatever it was) the handsome, charismatic amethyst-eyed Emperor walked to the blonde and held Wolfram's fingers on the palm of his hand. "His Highness...?"

Emerald eyes sought obsidian orbs for a moment. Confusion and surprise were apparent in the pitch black of his eyes, but Yuuri didn't seem to reject the idea terribly, so Wolfram mustered his courage and stood, nursing his pain to a ball in his heart. "Gladly, Kranos Heika."

The Emperor didn't take his time. As soon as they were on the dancing floor, he curled his arm around the fire-wielder's waist, just below the hem of the white jacket, gentle yet firm when he pulled the blonde to a distance that was less than appropriate for what was expected of a man with another man's spouse.

Kranos glided into motions; following the music so seamlessly Wolfram was slightly dazzled. The Emperor led the dance skilfully, as expected as any person of his station, his steps synchronous with the beat of the waltz the blonde was sucked into the flow. With Yuuri, he had to guide his King, put in a conscious effort before Yuuri could lead. Once they fell into rhythm, the dance could be a comfortable series of movements; Wolfram always relished any opportunity to be close with Yuuri, but he had forgotten how it felt to dance mindlessly, with familiar grace and elegance.

A distance away, something lodge itself to Yuuri's throat as he watched his husband with that Shinou-not-so-lookalike. The Maou hadn't seen the third son enjoying himself in a long time. The Prince Consort was often busy with internal affairs, and the Soukoku imagined he was all left feet when it came to dancing. While he was happy for Wolfram, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of wistfulness and restlessness, which he couldn't understand himself.

"Would you like to dance, Yuuri-sama?" Yuuri heard the question posed in a feminine voice and turned to find the Empress looking at him with those unsettling, fascinating mismatched eyes, the ever-present, albeit stiffer smile still on her face. Her gloved hand was waiting in front of him.

"I'm not a good at dancing, Yura-san," the Maou smiled wanly. The night was young, but he was somewhat tired.

"Neither am I." Haruhiko tilted her head. "I'm not wearing heels."

Yuuri chuckled and looked around the table. Murata and Yozak were already mingling with other guests, paving foundations of a secure political relation or gathering information. Only Conrad was left, keeping one eye on his half-brother and the other at his godson. The knight nodded when his King asked a silent question. "All right," Yuuri's smile turned softer. The Maou considered the young woman his friend, "Just one song."

The Empress lied. She was good; may be not at dancing, in particular – Yuuri noticed that their moves could be out of sync with others, at times – but her coordination and balance were impeccable, even with the restrictive fabric of her mermaid-line dress. He needn't worried about stepping on her feet, or getting his stepped on. Yuuri hadn't danced with a girl for a long time, possibly only once after the wedding. Aside from the curve of the bodice he felt underneath his palm, and the swell of hips below, it wasn't that much different from dancing with Wolfram.

"I'm sorry," she spoke suddenly, pulling him out of his reverie. He looked at her, the weight of her hand on his shoulder nearly nonexistent, to find her head bowed. "I was supposed to have introduced you to the nobles and ministers..."

Yuuri quickly went over his earlier interactions with the other guests, and realised that several of them did not greet the Empress. There were people in the Court who did not acknowledge her. He'd almost missed that fact, because the politicians and aristocrats' lack of respect towards him was way more obvious. Was it...caused by him? Was she shunned because of her support for Shin Makoku?

"Don't mention it, Yura-san," Yuuri replied guiltily, "That wasn't your fault."

Haruhiko looked up, her smile widening slightly. "So..." other dancers twirled, and they hastily followed the crowd. "Have you made a decision?" She asked him once their gaze was re-connected.

"A...decision?" Yuuri echoed blankly.

* * *

Wolfram closed his eyes and hummed, lost in that distraction he was so desperate to escape to. He wanted to forget, even for a mere instance. "So..." the Prince Consort could hear Kranos speak, and returned to reality half-heartedly.

The Emperor was looking at him very, very intensely. But his stare wasn't one of rapture or even fascination. The human ruler was studying him emotionlessly, and he felt horribly vulnerable with those sharp, stripping eyes upon him. Wolfram told himself that he was probably twice older than this human, so he shouldn't be afraid, but his self-talk wasn't working.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Wolfram countered, and was tremendously relieved when mischief re-entered those amethyst orbs. "You were a soldier, too?" Kranos smiled before twirling his partner.

'_Too?'_ the blonde inquired inwardly. "Yes, Your Majesty," he answered when they were face to face once again.

"No wonder…" the Emperor stepped forward, and Wolfram stepped back to maintain that nearly absent distance between them. Kranos chuckled.

"Your Majesty…?" Wolfram tilted his head.

"You're quick on your feet, and you're passionate. A classic soldier," the hand holding his own strayed to the emerald-eyed Mazoku's face so fast he didn't see it coming. "You're like someone I know," Kranos murmured, fingertips leaving a blaze in their trails before stopping at his earlobe. The human's gaze seemed faraway, like he was superimposing someone else's visage upon Wolfram's face.

After Kranos' hand left the fire-wielder's skin, Wolfram felt a weight that was previously not present dangling from one ear. The Prince Consort remembered pulling out his green pearl earrings because they no longer matched his clothing and put them in his pocket on the way to the Ballroom, so his ears had been completely unadorned.

But when he reached for his right ear he found the most exquisite piece of jewellery he'd ever seen. It had a thick clasp and a mini golden bird of fire – a phoenix, he belatedly realised – flaming feathers cast so finely on the light, small, shiny piece. The earring was the kind that was meant to be worn only on one ear. The phoenix leaned towards the large piece of diamond it held in its claws, partially shrouded by the wings. Tiny emerald studs were embedded in various parts of the body.

Wolfram stilled, his mouth hanging open. As he gaped like a fish, Kranos nudged him to continue moving so they wouldn't bump into other dancers. "It suits you," the blue-haired man said when the consort was still groping for logic and words. "Please accept it."

"I cannot possibly do that!" Wolfram's wits finally returned. He made a move to take out the earring, but gentle, firm fingers curled around his wrist and stopped him. "Please do accept it," Kranos repeated, bending his head. They were so close they were sharing one breath, noses nearly touching. "It's rude not to. Besides, if you don't," the tall human retreated before Wolfram reacted from the invasion of his personal space. "I'm going to mint the gold to coins. It won't be suitable to anyone else." He spoke with such certainty the blonde truly believed he would.

"Then…" the Mazoku placed his hand atop Kranos' re-proffered hand. "Thank you very much," he hated the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"You're welcome," the Emperor smiled.

* * *

"About the concubine who will carry your heir to term," the Empress elaborated. "If you are hard pressed for choice, perhaps you can tell me what qualities you'd like your heir to have and I can narrow down the list of women who will likely pass down those traits."

"Ah...that..." the Maou seemed disinclined to continue the conversation, "to be honest, I haven't been thinking about it at all, Yura-san. I apologise." In his letter to Yozak, Gwendal had told Yuuri to take the Empress' offer, but Yuuri still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. His eyes sought for a pair of blonde and blue heads from the throng of crowd who were in constant movements. Subconsciously, Yuuri smiled when he managed to find his husband.

Empress Haruhiko eyed the expression on the King's face for a while before she asked, in a small, low voice. "Are you afraid that it will hurt Sir von Bielefeld-Shibuya?"

Yuuri wrenched his eyes away from the sight of the blonde and turned to the young woman. "Well...yes," he looked down at their feet. "He'd...suffered enough because of me."

"But the fact that you need an heir is undeniable, now that Shinou Heika is gone from Shin Makoku," there was steel in the Empress' mismatched eyes, that quiet strength the Maou often observed. "Appointing a Mistress for the purpose of begetting your heir...will hurt His Highness more." She paused, her lids lowering. "It's always difficult to be one of a man's spouses."

Yuuri stared at the beautiful woman in front of him; his eyes opened so wide a ring of white showed around each obsidian iris. "I...suppose so," he settled to a soft smile, gratitude and comprehension dawning in his gaze. "Thank you."

"You'll think about it?" she asked before he twirled her again, right on cue this time.

"Yes, I will…Yura-san?" the Empress had her eyes wide open, her brows furrowing, her smile slipping away from her face so unexpectedly the Maou was puzzled. "Yura-san?"

"A moment, please" she dropped her hands and shimmied through the throng of dancers so adroitly she was almost across the floor in a blink of an eye.

The Maou tried to follow her. "Yura-san!"

* * *

"Sir von Bielefeld-Shibuya," Kranos spoke abruptly.

Wolfram looked up in surprise. The song was almost ending. "Your Majesty?"

The Emperor bent his head forward again. "Have you ever thought," he breathed, so silkily it would melt butter, "how different it can be if you were mine?"

"Huh?" Wolfram was overwhelmed by the onslaught of the plethora of emotions that flooded him in torrents – shock, outrage, disgust – warring to take precedent in his reply. His first reflex was to step away. "What-"

"You're miserable with him; you can't deny that," the man trapped him in his arms continued relentlessly, all mirth in his irises disintegrating, leaving behind the eyes of a predator, cornering his prey for a kill, "You can't hide it. You body language screams it."

"I-I…" his heart throbbed painfully and Wolfram stilled, his resistance dying. Their noses touched, and the lines of Kranos' lips softened, slightly. "I'll treat you well. You'll be second only to the Empress. You can be in the army. I'll grant you everything you desire."

The spoken words snapped the blonde back to awareness. "Your Majesty likes to joke," Wolfram tried to push the other male back. Only moments ago, he thought his opinions of the Emperor had improved. He was wrong. "Your Majesty likes women. All of your concubines are females."

"I appreciate beauty, in any shape or form," Kranos corrected, leaning in even further. "Besides, that will make you all the more special, isn't it?"

"Y-you…impudent…" When that walking hulk of libido was less than an inch away, Wolfram raised his hand, less than an inch away from delivering a punch to that square jaw…

Only to have his wrist trapped, again, in an iron grip, slim, strong fingers curled against his pulses. "Your Majesty," the title was stated in a feminine voice, "May I have this dance with His Highness?"

Wolfram looked over the Emperor's shoulder to find mismatched eyes returning his wide-eyed stare, the curl of the Empress' smile widening once she had his attention. "His Highness?" she walked to his side.

While the Prince Consort felt exceptionally grateful the pervert's wife had averted a possibly cataclysmic, lives-altering event from occurring, he had to wonder how she'd managed to stop his limb in its track, wither neither a strand of hair nor a breath out of place. Was she nearby? Was he…being watched??

"In the meantime," Wolfram recognised Yuuri's voice and looked for the half-Mazoku frantically. The Demon King was standing next to the human Emperor, a friendly smile in place. But there was disquiet in his eyes, like raging waters in a flooding river, and one of his fists was hidden below his cape. "I have something I'd like to talk to you." That moment, the Maou didn't appear like he would take no for an answer.

Kranos had the audacity to turn languidly, uncaring that he had been caught red-handed. "It's noisy here," he told the other ruler, "we can talk in the balcony." He proceeded to stroll away from the dance floor without a single backward glance.

When Yuuri followed, the determination in his eyes undiminished, Wolfram made a move to go after him. "Wait, I'll go with-"

His wrist was still entrapped by the Empress' fingers. "It's all right," she said when he gave her a beseeching look. "Lord Weller is with Maou Heika." She tugged him closer to her and placed his hand on her waist.

He vaguely heard a new piece of music being played, and swayed to motion almost reflexively, his feet having a mind on its own. Something felt different, though, and with a jolt, he realised that this was the first time he was leading a dance since…well, since Yuuri accidentally slapped his cheek. He'd danced with people other than Yuuri, most of them ambassadors of human nations, and males. Somehow, he automatically left the 'dazzling the girls' to Yuuri, and the Soukoku never failed to do so, with or without any political reasons involved, anyways. The males always requested to dance with him, and it was his duty to maintain peaceful relations for his husband's (or fiancé's, depending on the time) reign.

Wolfram didn't miss dancing with a girl.

But he might have to re-familiarise himself with females. Greta would be sixteen all too soon, an adult to the eyes of the Mazoku and the humans, and therefore freed from the traditional familial laws of her Sveleran relatives. She could choose who she wanted to stay with; Yuuri no longer had to be married to keep her custody.

And Wolfram would choose a companion who had no similarities with Yuuri, neither a physical resemblance nor a trait. If the blonde have to date a girl for that, he wouldn't mind.

But, before that, he reminded himself, he had a duty to his King.

"I really think I should accompany Yuuri," Wolfram told the other Imperial Consort, green fire burning in his eyes, and turned.

"Why?" the Empress' grasp on his hand stopped him, again. It was surprisingly very strong, for a woman's grip. Wolfram eyed his gloved hand, sure that underneath the fabric, violet petals would blossom on his skin, before he looked up and his gaze clashed against equally stubborn dark green and amber irises, whose edges couldn't be taken away by the friendly smile on Haruhiko's face. "Haven't you been keeping me in your sight?"

The question sounded flirty, yet the both of them knew suspicion was implied. Wolfram, too, had been caught red-handed.

When the Mazoku was frozen in place, debating inwardly about what to do, the Empress guided his hand to her waist, again. "It's justified," she whispered when her gaze was momentarily downcast.

His hold on the golden fabric of her gown tightened, nails digging to the pre-existing creases, adding their own marks.

* * *

"Well?" Kranos stated as he stepped out of the glass door. Cool night breezes blew against his masculine face and dislodged strands of camouflaged dark hair, the blue of his locks blending in the blue of the sky. The majestic ruler turned around and leaned against the marble railings. "What do you wish to talk about, Yuuri Heika?"

The black-haired half-Mazoku covered his bangs from the wind while Conrad closed the glass door behind him, like turning off the noise coming from a tap, capes flapping against their ankles. The balcony wasn't very big, but it was spacious enough six people could stand inside comfortably. Once the air was more still, Yuuri, who was only one step away, stared into the Emperor's critical amethyst eyes squarely. "Ms. Charlotte."

Lights from the Ballroom cast the young king in shadows, portraying him like the demon he was. "Ms. Charlotte?" Kranos raised an eyebrow, watching him with disguised caution. "One of the Empress' ladies-in-waiting?"

The Maou nodded; one clear, unhesitant movement of the head.

"What about her?" the Emperor looked down at his hand, clearly bored.

"You don't know?" Yuuri countered, aghast. "She's also a part of the court!" his voice rose slightly.

"I trust the Empress to handle the household's affairs," Kranos replied almost flippantly. Now that the two royalties were almost alone, politeness seemed to have fallen splat on the ground storeys below. "Despite whatever she had said, she's capable. If it's important enough, she will let me notice."

'_And if it isn't, it doesn't get to him._' Yuuri thought. He looked angrier by the second. "But Ms. Charlotte's your wife! You should know!" _'How can a matter of life and death not be important?'_

The Emperor was silent for a moment, eyes studying the Maou, before he straightened his spine and spoke in a more conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry, Maou Heika. I have many wives it's difficult to keep track of each one and care for the country. I'm sure you have helpers, as well. Kings are not Gods. Well, Shinou Heika is an exception." Kranos offered a good-natured smile.

Yuuri was the type who fought harder when disputed, but caved in guilt in the face of graciousness. Conrad had a feeling Kranos knew this, and changed his tactics.

True enough, the younger ruler bowed his head. _'Perhaps Yura-san hasn't informed him yet. Perhaps, she's still trying to rectify the matter by herself.' _"I'm sorry, too."

"Well," Kranos halved the distance between them, "If Your Majesty knows something, please enlighten me."

Yuuri looked up. "Kranos Heika, have you ever forgotten to sign the Book of Summoning?"

The Emperor was thrown off by the complete non-sequitur. He blinked repeatedly before finally shaking his head. "No."

"No?" the Soukoku leaned closer. "Not even once? When you're visiting their quarters instead of the other way around, perhaps?"

"Not even once," Kranos retorted confidently. "All the guards had been briefed to remind me; a task with dire punishment if neglected to be done. The signing of the Book of Summoning was also part and parcel of the sex talk my father gave me. One just can't forget that kind of thing."

Yuuri recalled his own experience with his mother, once Miko Jennifer Shibuya discovered about his engagement to Wolfram (rather, Wolfram had been announcing it out loud), and with Lady Cheri, that night of the infamous slap. He'd heard more information about homosexual sex than he'd ever wanted to, in life, and it did stick to his brain, indeed (something he lamented).

Grateful for the darkness that covered the red tinges on his cheeks, Yuuri continued awkwardly. "Surely you may have…"

"I'm sure I never have," the human cut in, more self-possessed than ever. "And I will never, when the matter involves the succession of the throne, when the consequences of such a mistake can threaten Yekaterina's peace in the future." He discarded the mask of playfulness, steely sobriety remaining in its wake.

Dread and hopelessness filled his chest. Yuuri had been banging on the Emperor's error to release Ms. Charlotte from the death sentence. When that was shot, the only ticket left was the Emperor's forgiveness. "Ms. Charlotte…" the Maou began, "was poisoned this morning."

Kranos looked barely shocked. It made Yuuri wonder whether an attempt at a concubine's life was such a daily occurrence here. _'It's always difficult to be one of a man's spouses.'_

"I assume Sir Anthony had caught the culprit?" The human ruler asked calmly, one hand combing through midnight coloured hair.

"Well…no," Yuuri peered at the larger man. Kranos still looked unfazed. "Yura-san was accused of being the mastermind, but-"

"Hold on!" The Emperor moved to hold Yuuri's shoulders so unexpectedly Conrad had the hilt of his sword in his hand in a blink, his whole body poised for an attack. When he saw that Kranos wasn't going to do the Maou any harm, he neutralised his stance.

Yuuri winced. The Emperor's grasp was so strong it was nearly painful. "What do you mean, Haruhiko was accused?" panic began to enter the human's voice.

"During lunch today…" Yuuri explained, "Yura-san was arrested. Sir Anthony and a lady declared that Yura-san was under suspicion because an ingredient of the poison used was native to Yura-san's homeland-"

"Who?" The grip became more painful. "Who's that 'lady'?"

"Eh?" Yuuri raked through his brain. "I…I'm sorry I don't know…"

Kranos seemed increasingly frustrated. "What does she look like?"

"E-eh?" A frown appeared on Yuuri's temple. "Blonde, slim, and…" That couldn't be of any help. There could be a hundred blonde concubines, and all of them were slim. But his memories were too fuzzy. "I'm extremely sorry…"

The Emperor released his hold and sighed, "It's all right." His hand brushed his hair again, frustration apparent in his countenance. "I'm sorry for pressing on you like that."

Yuuri was fast to reassure the other ruler. "But Yura-san had been released quickly. There wasn't enough evidence, Sir Anthony said."

"I see," Kranos replied, but he was still tense, his expression not relaxed at all.

"…The incident brought another fact into light," Yuuri ploughed on. He was getting closer to the main point. "Ms. Charlotte is pregnant."

"But her name wasn't in the Book of Summoning during the predicted conceive dates?" Kranos finished for the other ruler, and Yuuri looked surprised. "Y-yes…how…?"

"I made the connection," Kranos stared squarely into the young King's pitch black irises. "And the kind, gentle Demon King is going to plead for her life." It was spoken matter-of-factly.

Yuuri fell silent for a while.

"Ms. Charlotte doesn't have to die." The Maou's voice was small, but firm.

Kranos shook his head. "Unfortunately, she has to. It's the law. She knows she had broken it."

"But she…they don't have to die!" the volume of Yuuri's voice rose again. "You can just remove them from the castle-"

"And they will die on the streets," again, the statement was spoken in a matter-of-fact manner. "Her family won't receive her back. She had shamed her family and her homeland. And citizens don't take to disloyal concubines kindly."

"Her lover-!" Yuuri started, and Conrad's eyes widened. His godson was going to say something inappropriate.

"That law had been established centuries ago, Maou Heika," fortunately, the Emperor interrupted. "Something as old as, whether it is a tradition or a rule, is going to be difficult to change. I'm sure you understand that."

Yuuri understood that too well. Shin Makoku had tonnes of irrational traditions which were as old as Shinou himself. One of them landed him to the complication that was his engagement.

"Besides…" Kranos moved to stand on the same side with the Maou, and tilted his head back. Yuuri followed his line of sight and saw stars, millions in numbers, twinkling at him, diamonds spilled on a dark carpet; beautiful, and distant. "The law has its reasons. On average, a Yekaterian Emperor has about 300 to 500 concubines. The record was almost 1000, just a century ago, 3 reigns before mine. If an Emperor cannot learn to control his harem, how can he be trusted to rule his empire?"

"B-but…" one man couldn't have his attention divided to so many wives, and divided still, to the millions of citizens, and diplomatic relations with foreign countries. It really was pitiful for the concubines. Yura-san's words kept on echoing in his ears. _'It's always difficult to be one of a man's spouses.'_

"Maou Heika can't possibly be thinking of abolishing the concubine system altogether, can you?" Yuuri hated that he was so easy to read. The Maou bowed his head to hide his face, but his posture still screamed of disapproval.

Kranos gave the young King a small smile, one an adult would indulge naïve kids with. "It's so revolutionary it's akin to abolishing the monarchy itself," he said. "Nobles, feudal lords and officials are happy to have their daughters earn the Emperor's favours. Impoverished aristocrats want to tap the empire's wealth through their daughters. The empire also wants to ensure that there is always a blue-blooded successor to inherit the throne. It's a win-win situation." His tone became more melancholic. "Shin Makoku, who until recently never have to have the citizens doubting the authenticity of their rulers, won't understand."

'_He made it sound like prostitution.' _Yuuri balled his fists. "Still…the concubines are so-"

"They understand. It's Noblesse Oblige," the Emperor countered, "the responsibility of those with high statuses. Freedom is the price to pay for being born with a silver spoon in the mouth. That beautiful husband of yours was an aristocrat, right?" Yuuri stiffened. He didn't want to be reminded of what a hypocrite he currently was. Then, there was also that closeness Kranos had with the blonde, which unsettled and confused Yuuri so much he still wasn't sure what he felt. "I'm sure he understands, too."

"Don't-" 'bring Wolfram into this!' was what Yuuri was going to shout, but the Maou hang his head in defeat. Even if the pureblood Mazoku wanted the marriage, Wolfram surely didn't want the circumstances surrounding the supposedly happy occasion. That was why Lady Cheri was so quick to abdicate herself, wasn't it? She knew that she wouldn't be able to find her true love as a Queen.

"Which brings me to another point," Kranos continued on and on. Yuuri wanted to cover his ears because he can't argue against the Emperor's truths. "Say, I let them live. Ms. Charlotte will be ostracised. Nothing stays a secret in the Palace. If the baby's a princess, she will be married off to a foreign prince, or a general, someone of the Advisors' choosing. If the baby's a prince, well, whether the identity of his true father is disclosed or not, he will not be made Emperor. He will have to devote himself to the army, and one day sacrifice himself for the empire, or be sent as an ambassador, who in truth is a hostage, to a foreign kingdom. Either way, their fates are pitiful."

"But being alive is always better than being dead!" Yuuri protested lividly.

Kranos' smile turned to a mocking smirk, which seemed to say, 'you don't know that.' "Well, the way I see it, there's only one way Ms. Charlotte can survive the ordeal alive."

Yuuri looked at the Emperor with wide eyes, his breath held in his lungs.

"Make her yours."

* * *

Wolfram spent the dance scrutinising his partner, watching for any hint that could tell him how dangerous the woman was. When he met Saralegui, the hair on the back of the fire-wielder's neck had been standing all the time. With this Empress, the signs had been vague.

"Even though…" He heard her murmur as he twirled her one last time. She met his gaze head on, and continued, "Even though I said your doubt may be justifiable, I never mean Yuuri-sama any harm."

The song ended, and she finally released him from her grip. "Thank you. It had been enjoyable," the Empress curtsied.

"Me too," Wolfram replied reflexively, his eyes still watching her hard, even as she turned and disappeared in the crowd. He walked away absentmindedly, wondering why that statement bothered him when he knew she must be lying.

* * *

"Take her to Shin Makoku. But then…" the amethyst-eyed man shrugged and covered what could be a scoff with his hand, "you may hurt other people with that decision…like that beautiful husband of yours."

Yuuri felt like he had been slapped on the face. The ticket to saving two people's lives was in his hand, but…was he wrong if he didn't want to use it? Was he wrong if he didn't want to hurt the one person who mattered to him, his best friend?

Kranos appeared to be hiding a low-pitched chuckle. "Ms. Charlotte may not want to be saved, as well. I'm sure you know…not many Yekaterians have warmed up to you. And she may not want to depart from her homeland and spend the rest of her life in a faraway foreign place."

Yuuri glared at the other ruler, but his heart wasn't in it. Was he wrong if he actually felt…relieved? That he had an excuse to not offer his sanctuary other than his own egocentricity?

"Anyways, unless you take her off my hands, Ms. Charlotte will be handed the death sentence," Kranos handed him that indulging smile again, the one he hated so much. "Now…I'd like to talk to my dear Empress."

Yuuri and Conrad turned around to find the dark-haired woman opening the glass door, steel in her mismatched eyes. "I hope His Majesty hadn't been bullying you, Yuuri-sama. I'm afraid he does have that habit," she smiled at the Demon King.

"It's been all right," Yuuri gave her a feeble laugh before nodding at the Emperor, "Thank you for letting me talk to you, Kranos Heika. I wish for the best for Shin Makoku's future's endeavours with Yekaterina."

The Soukoku left the balcony, a palpable tension apparent across the length of his spine.

As soon as the door was closed, any trace of the persisting smile was gone from the Empress' face. "What have you told Yuuri-sama?"

She was replied with a smug smirk. "I know what you're planning," her husband took a step towards her and trapped her against the railing.

* * *

After a while, Wolfram managed to spot Yozak crouching near one of the glass doors. The ginger-haired half-Mazoku looked around before disappearing below the curtains.

Curious, Wolfram approached the spy and tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing?" he sneaked under the fabric as well.

Yozak nearly jumped in surprise. "Wolfram," he spoke in hushed voices, "Be quiet!"

The blonde heard snippets of a conversation going on and turned to its source to find Yuuri's figure returning to the Ballroom from the balcony just next to theirs. The glass door pressed to his face was slightly open, and that was where the sounds slipped through to reach them.

Wolfram's eyes widened. "Are you eavesdropping?"

"Ssshh!" Yozak glared at his Prince. "You either be completely silent, or leave me alone!"

"I know what you're planning," the Mazoku heard Kranos saying, and turned to see the tall, leanly muscular man pinning the mismatched-eyed woman to the railing, completely blocking her escape.

Wolfram's entire attention was on the drama unfolding before him. "I'll be silent," he mouthed.

* * *

"But you don't know what I'm planning," Kranos taunted. "Keep you on your toes, doesn't it?" He shook his head.

Yura looked at him stoically. "I don't know what you mean," she stated monotonously.

"You've been with me for over twenty five years," sorrow ghosted over those masculine features for an instance. "Yet you still don't know me that well."

She fell silent momentarily. "But I know you, however little," the steel that was in her eyes was carried over in her voice, now. "I trust that you will not ruin this chance for a diplomatic relation with Shin Makoku. I trust that you won't sacrifice your empire for your personal feelings."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "You don't know that," he stepped forward, so that his body was pressing against her. Yura scooted, trying, futilely, to maintain a semblance of distance. "And you don't trust me, either. That's why you watched over that beautiful prince. You think he is the one more easily provoked. Guess what, you're wrong again." He leaned closer, invading her personal space shamelessly. "While that Maou and I were here, I nearly angered him a few times."

"Nearly being the keyword, I presume," Yura took a deep breath and responded calmly.

Kranos seemed more pissed. "What were you thinking, not letting me know that someone framed you?" he gripped her shoulders so hard her skin seemed to bruise. "Do you really want to leave me that much?"

Wide mismatched eyes stared at him. "I…" she gaped, groping for words but, unable to give him the ones he wanted to hear, she bent her head like a scolded child.

"I know what you're planning for Miguel," Kranos hissed, and bent even closer, sharing one patch of breath with the woman. "I won't let it happen!"

He crashed his lips against hers, his tongue invading the warm cavern of mouth. He felt her struggling against him. In his line of vision, he saw one palm charging at his face at a high speed, but a couple of inches away it stopped abruptly and, as though zapped of strength, dropped to her side.

He smirked. "You can't hurt me, can you?" he muttered against the skin of her cheek, tasting salt in the wetness that meandered down to her neck. "It's against your instincts to protect me." He wrapped his arms around her dying resistance. "This part of you still hasn't changed."

"Please…" she was cornered to begging, again. "Please don't obstruct the plan…"

"No!" He was like a fickle wild beast; that ephemeral gentleness was gone. "I won't allow it to happen! I will stop it through whatever means!"

"Stop!" She turned hysterical as well, thrashing about in his restrictive embrace, but still taking care to not hit him. "How much blood will you make me spill?" she was sobbing openly, now, a mess of emotional tangles. Nothing of the prideful, composed Empress was there.

"Pamellia's demise was your doing," the Emperor spat the name, sheer loathing dripping from the timbre of his voice. "It was never my fault."

Yura gasped when the name was uttered, and crumpled like a broken marionette. "Please…" she closed her eyes.

He kissed her again, just as urgently and with much force. "You're mine," he breathed the words like a mantra. "I won't let you go." He made a move to pull her skirt up, but realising that it was a skin-tight mermaid-line dress, he sniggered to himself.

"To think that you've anticipated this…" He took half a step back. She, who had been leaning on him, fell to the ground, and he guided her head to his groin.

Yozak withdrew from the horrifying sight and pressed his hands against his eyes. "Ugh," he exhaled, "I need to wash my eyes…That aside," the half-Mazoku stepped away from the glass door. "Kranos Heika mentioned Prince Miguel…I think it may be useful for us to investigate his relation to the Empress…Wolfram? Wolfram?" He waved his hand in front of the unresponsive prince.

Wolfram was still staring at the horrendous scene, his mind a mile away. "He loves her," he whispered, so, so softly, his gloved hands pressing on the cool, smooth glass surfaces, his breath turning to white condensation. "But she doesn't love him. It makes sense."

Yozak looked at the pair of Yekaterian royalties again, right when Kranos seemed to be having an orgasm. "You're mine," he too, dropped to his knees, and held her. His voice sounded hoarse. "I won't let you go." He wiped her face with his hand, picked the shawl and covered her torso with it.

Yura curled to tiny ball once the Emperor had left the balcony, rocking herself as she tried to hold back more tears. She murmured something to her own palm before closing her eyes, and she rose to her feet. When the mismatched irises came to view again, the dignified Empress was back, the steel rekindled.

The ginger-haired spy pulled his prone prince out of their hiding place as soon as Haruhiko returned to the Ballroom. "Where have you been?" a half-drunk Murata greeted them when the two went back to the table they ate their dinner at.

"Enjoying the party, of course," since Wolfram didn't look like he was back to whatever planet Shin Makoku was on, Yozak took the responsibility to reply.

Yuuri, who was also at the table, wouldn't meet his husband's eyes. "I'm tired," the Maou stood up. "Can we return to our quarters now?"

Wolfram had enough consciousness to nod. Yozak and Conrad looked at one another and followed suit. The Great Sage did so reluctantly.

The walk down the corridors was deathly quiet. Yuuri was ahead, his trusted godfather-cum-bodyguard by his side. Murata was almost directly behind them. Wolfram kept a distance, and Yozak accompanied him.

"I won't…" when they nearly arrived at their quarters, the blonde spoke again for the first time. Yozak gave his full attention on him, and saw that there was solid determination in the bishounen's eyes.

"I won't love Yuuri like that," he swore, his hands clenching.

In front, Yuuri strode on, oblivious.

End of chapter 2

To be continued in chapter 3: Prisoners of Love

A/N: Well, well...there are a lot of 'read between the lines' moments in this chapter...I hope you can get them. I also hope it didn't seem like I was springing this side of the Empress out of the blue, considering that I'd written her as a suspicious, possibly antagonistic character in earlier chapters. Truthfully, I never have the intention to label my OCs 'bad' and 'good'. They have their own reasons for their actions.


	11. Prisoners of Love 01: Shibuya Yuuri

A/N: I would like to thank all of those who have reviewed and supported me till now. I really appreciate your patience. This is the first time the number of chapters I've written for a story hit double digit, and the number of reviews exceeded 100! I'm really happy. Please continue staying with me, and I'll do my best not to disappoint!

To Yuki-san: I've forgiven you long ago. I don't mind them at all…anger is a powerful force. The updates were driven by the emotion to prove some of the reviews wrong, and dissolved by the time I finished, so it's all right XD.

Chapter 3

Prisoner 01: Shibuya Yuuri

The weather was turning colder as lush emerald green leaves turned to various shades of amber, maroon, and burnt sienna. The temperature drop was most apparent before the sun rose to the sky.

Murata snuggled to the warm covering of his blanket, his head slipping under the protective cocoon when little birds began to chirp outside the window. The Daikenja reincarnate, who had one massive hangover for enjoying 'social drinks' these past couple of nights, did not appreciate being woken so horribly early. "Shut up…" he groaned.

The birds, of course, couldn't understand human's language, and continued minding their own business.

The high-pitched chipping annoyed the hell out of the Soukoku. Murata gritted hi teeth, turned over and stuffed a pillow over his head, but the noise kept on grating on his nerves. It couldn't be ignored.

A vein throbbed on his temple. "I said SHUT UP!"

Suddenly, the sound of a brittle object shattering to pieces filled his ears. A blast of freezing wind woke Murata up. He realised that the glass pane of the window was broken, and his hand was aching. When he raised said limb, he saw small pieces embedded to his flesh, blood pouring from torn skin.

It took Murata three seconds before he screamed.

Almost immediately, the door to his room was blown open. "What happened?" Yozak was the first to enter, Conrad one step behind him. Even though both of them were wearing pyjamas, the brown-haired half-Mazoku had his sword ready.

"Was someone murdered?" Wolfram's voice followed the older Mazokus' trail, still husky with sleep, accompanied by the pattering of his feet. The blonde reached Murata's doorway soon after, a damn sight in his frilly pink nightgown, wielding his sword with both hands. "Is the Great Sage dead?"

A pair of dark brown eyes met three other anxious pairs blankly. "Erm…" Murata started sheepishly, "I was drunk…and the birds irritated me…and I punched the window…"

A crow cawed as it flew across the sky, shattering the silence that shrouded the stunned.

"You IDIOT!" Wolfram strangled the Soukoku by the collar of his pyjama, shaking him so hard he could accidentally bit his tongue if he talked back. Yozak was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach. Conrad sheathed his weapon and sighed at the commotion.

"I-I g-get it!" Murata raised his hand, his voice trembling from the shaking. "I was being stupid! Please stop before I puke all over you!" his face did look a little blue.

The Prince Consort dropped him immediately, as though his hands had been scorched.

The Soukoku grabbed his spectacles, which had fallen to the floor in the debacle, and rubbed his rear. "That's painful," he moaned, "please treat me more delicately." When Wolfram looked like he was about to murder the Great Sage for real, Murata quickly diverted the conversation. "By the way, where's Shibuya?"

The quartet succumbed to another bout of silence.

"I can't believe he can sleep through that banshee shrill!" Wolfram put his sword back to its encasement and stepped out, crossing the common room in large strides.

"Hey, Wolfram!" Yozak rose to his feet and went after the pureblood Mazoku. "He might just be too tired from last night's festivities!"

"Or something might have happened to him!" Wolfram retorted, his emerald eyes staring at the ginger-eyed spy right in the eyes. The fire wielder's slender fingers curled around the knob, turning the contraption. "Yuuri!" Wolfram called out. "Rise and shine-"

There was no squirming lump under the blanket. Instead, the black-haired young King was sitting at one corner of the four-poster bed, his spine curved, his side leaning on the wooden pole. His eyes, those pitch black irises, were wide open, staring raptly at the vermilion globe rising above the horizon behind that luxurious carpet of tree canopies.

After hearing his voice, Yuuri turned to his husband, exhaustion apparent in his slow movements. Large, dark eye bags adorned his face, yet his gaze was clear, laden with decisiveness and sombreness.

"Wolfram," the blonde could count with one hand moments Yuuri had been more kingly than he was this instance. "I have something to discuss with you."

* * *

_For his love for humanity, he was imprisoned,_

_

* * *

_

"I told Kranos Heika about Ms Charlotte last night," Yuuri began.

This was the first time a meeting was conducted in a bedroom while no one was on his or her deathbed, the two participants clothed in their sleeping garbs.

Wolfram couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to be transformed, drastically. "And…?"

"He said…" Yuuri bowed his head, his eyes staring at the sheet he was fiddling with. "He said…as long as she's his, she will get the death sentence."

"Can you hear anything, Yozak?" Murata pressed his ear against the wooden frame.

"No," the muscular man positioned above the Soukoku leaned more of his weight on the door, making it creak dangerously.

"Quit it," Conrad said, yet he was still pacing around the common room, wearing the carpet thin. The trio, too, hadn't changed out of their pyjamas.

The last time the royal couple had a 'discussion' like this, Gwendal ended up 'handing over' his baby brother to Yuuri for a poor excuse of a political marriage.

They couldn't help but worry.

* * *

"So…" Despite the resolve he'd shown earlier, Yuuri seemed hesitant to continue, his face hidden by a curtain of straight raven locks.

Wolfram clutched the covering of the mattress so hard all colours were lost from his knuckles. He had been with this half-Mazoku for years, detesting him, observing him, obsessing over him, burning for him, spent countless nights and days yearning and crying before realising that he would not be his. He knew his King inside out, his priorities, his likes and dislikes, how he think. He'd chased the King so long he could comprehend his mindset, his thought process.

Those feelings remained unreciprocated.

"So you've decided to provide her a sanctuary in Shin Makoku," Wolfram finished his husband's sentence for him.

Yuuri looked up in surprise. "How did-" the question met an abrupt death once his obsidian eyes met those dark green ones of the blonde. Those black brows furrowed. "…Offer," he amended. "I've decided to offer her a sanctuary. If she declines, I'm not going to push it."

'_It's not certain yet,'_ was what Yuuri wanted to say. _'And I know it hurts you. I'm sorry.'_

Wolfram sighed. "It's-"

"Don't you say it's not your concern," Yuuri closed the berth between them and gripped his arm, tanned fingers wrapped tightly around the silky fabric of the pink lingerie, pulling the Mazoku under him their faces were mere inches apart. Yuuri's breath on his cheeks made Wolfram shudder, his mind becoming blank. "I don't care what happens later. Now, we're a married couple. If you don't agree with any of the decisions I plan to make, just voice your objections!"

Wolfram's breath hitched. His heart felt like it was clawing out of his ribcage, his pulses erratic. "I…" he faltered. Those eyes he loved stared straight at him, holding him prisoner, penetrating his barriers. "…I…"

'_Your kindness is the best of your qualities.'_

"…I don't mind," Wolfram managed to find his voice back, and gave his unwavering answer. "I have no objections." He laid his hand on Yuuri's other hand, the one pressed against the mattress and supporting the Maou's weight.

'_I swore I won't love you like that.'_

Yuuri's eyes turned glossy. "Thank you!" he enveloped the other male in his arms, his face snuggling against the flat plane of the blonde's torso. "I'm sorry," he added, his voice small.

Wolfram linked his fingers behind his husband's neck and enjoyed the warmth of the embrace, just a little longer. "It's all right…" he whispered to the nest of black, black locks. _'I love you even though it hurts me.'

* * *

_

"H-his Majesty," Ms. Charlotte stared at the ruler of the Demon Kingdom, who was dressed impeccable in his black _gakuran_-like clothes, with wide, scared eyes, before she scrambled to raise herself to greet him. "His Highness, His Holiness, and His Excellencies, your subject wishes to tell you-"

"Sshh," Yuuri walked quickly to her side to stop her, pushing down her shoulders gently till she lie down on the mattress. "You're still unwell. Please don't bother with the pleasantries."

"T-thank you," she replied, but the length of her spine was still tense, and her eyes were still fixated on him, her body flinching at his every move.

"Thank you," Yuuri told the maid who arranged a chair next to the bed and chairs for the other four Mazokus to sit on. She skirted away without any response before pressing herself to the wall near the door, her hands trembling visibly.

"His Majesty," the red-haired concubine mustered her courage to break the silence that was suffocating her. "Could your subject be of any assistance to you?"

Yuuri turned to the ailing woman in surprise. "I'm not here to ask any help," he remarked automatically. "Ah, but I'm not just here for a visit!" he flailed his hands in his clumsy attempt to explain himself.

Ms. Charlotte blinked at the young ruler and released a chuckle.

Yuuri stared at the young woman – a teenage girl, really, caught in this mess of a power play – transfixed by the silver bells of her laughter. It dawned on her that this auburn-haired concubine was really just a few years older than Greta, his adopted daughter.

Overwhelmed by a surge of protective feelings, he vowed that he wouldn't let her meet her demise so early in life.

She felt the weight of his stare and quickly bowed her head. "I-I'm so-sorry!" Ms. Charlotte stuttered. "T-that w-was im-imprudent of m-me."

"It's all right!" the Maou reassured and tilted her head up. "It's all right," he repeated, more softly.

Murata frowned at the somewhat love-dovey ambience that shrouded the room and elbowed Yozak. They peered at their Prince Consort, who were watching the interaction calmly, without a trace of jealously or suppressed fury and angst, and shrugged.

Yuuri paused before he revealed the crook of his visit. "The investigation is underway," he began, and when the pregnant girl flinched, he wished he didn't have to do this. "If the baby in your womb is not Kranos Heika's…He would give you the death sentence."

She started to tremble, her large eyes shadowed by fear, and Yuuri placed one hand on her shoulder. "Please do not fear, Ms. Charlotte," he leaned over her, his gaze firm, holding hers captive. "I can offer you and the father of that baby a sanctuary…but both of you will have to be brought to Shin Makoku…and you will have to be my Mistress. That's only in title, of course!" Yuuri rushed his last statement.

Murata and Yozak stared at their King in shock. The Great Sage nearly rose to his feet, but halted when one hand reached to envelop his own. His dark eyes trailed up to find a blonde _bishounen_ shaking his head. The Prince's eyes were the most breathtaking sight he'd seen, comprehension and resignation riddling the lake green flecks of his irises._ 'When you love someone,'_ he remembered saying, lifetimes ago, to this blonde's ancestor, _'you have to accept all of him, the good, and the bad.'_

"It's your choice, Ms. Charlotte," Yuuri made sure the red-haired concubine understood his words before he moved back to his seat and waited.

The air in the room became heavier. Every occupant had difficulty breathing, hearts in their throats, muscles tense and still.

Time moved again when a bead of tear leaked down those large innocent eyes, travelled down that smooth cheek and dripped down her chin to the blanket. "Once I'm yours…will all suspicions against Her Majesty be dropped?"

"Huh?" was Yuuri's initial response. It was Wolfram who gave the concubine a definite answer. "Haruhiko Heika was arrested because she was accused of attempted murder of the Emperor's property. But nothing had been made public yet. If you were to be gifted to my King before you are showing, no one will know anything about the truth of the matter, and we can request that the charges against the Empress be void." The blonde tried to project friendliness to this human who might or might not be his fellow King's spouse.

"Thank goodness," Ms. Charlotte looked like a marionette whose strings had been cut. All the lines of her body seemed to have melted away. Tears were dripping freely down her dollish face, now. "I don't want to bring her trouble…"

"But she had been angry at you," Yuuri remarked in surprise, before covering his mouth with his hand. He wasn't supposed to have known this.

"Because I disappointed her," fortunately, Ms. Charlotte wasn't the brightest bulb in the box. "Since I was assigned to be one of her ladies-in-waiting, Her Majesty has always been so kind…she'd advised me, thousands of times, not to direct any trouble to myself, and took care of me, since I'm a bit of a naïve idiot." She smiled to herself. "I fell for a young captain…I believed he would take me away from the Palace." The curl of her lips turned bitter. "He left the capital when I told him I'm having his child. I had been such a fool."

Yuuri covered her hand silently. For all his passion for strangers, he was pants at saying the right consolations.

It was Wolfram who surprised everyone by approaching the young girl's side and meeting her teary eyes. He placed his hand above hers too, his pinky lying above his husband's thumb. He spoke in a clear voice. "Love makes you do silly things," he smiled softly, understandingly. "But you can't resist."

The two stared at each other, large, vulnerable blue to pained green. She was sucked into the gaze of this exquisite young man, who would be her 'Empress' in Haruhiko Heika's place, and found his brimming love for his King.

Yuuri wanted to cry. He was glad for his acceptance, yet he knew, without a doubt, he'd broken Wolfram's heart again. The blonde's love for him seemed limitless, yet he couldn't return it; he'd hurt him over, and over…

"Thank you," finally, Ms. Charlotte gave her answer, "Your Highness, let me serve you, too."

* * *

_And cursed to a fate where he would hurt_

_Everyone who hold him dear

* * *

_

"Yuuri-sama," Haruhiko greeted her guests with a courteous smile when they were settling in the Hall, which had been converted back to a dining room, for lunch. "Sir von Bielefeld-Shibuya, His Holiness, His Excellencies."

"Yura-san," Yuuri returned after he'd seated himself on her right, his people on his right. They were back to eating with the Ladies again. Kranos was, thankfully, nowhere in sight.

"I heard you've just visited Ms. Charlotte again this morning. How is she?" she remarked, gesturing at the maids to serve the males from Shin Makoku.

Yuuri looked for a trace of concern in the mismatched eyed woman, but he could scarcely find it. For the Empress, Ms. Charlotte could be just one of the concubines she'd had to take under her wings. She was unaware that she had touched someone else's heart.

"She is fine," Yuuri cursed this system, and the poor, poor girls who had to suffer under it. The Empress, too, must have suffered. This strengthened his resolve to build a strong diplomatic relation with Yekaterina; so he could change this. "Yura-san, I have made a decision."

The dark-haired royalty didn't need a moment to mull over the context the Maou meant. "That's good," her eyes strayed to the blonde Prince Consort next to the Demon King, inwardly thankful at his lack of negative body language. "Who have you decided on?"

"Ms. Charlotte," the Soukoku answered unhesitatingly, his hand lying on his husband's knee below the table and squeezing it. Wolfram's widened eyes hid nothing.

"I see," the Empress' quiet enthusiasm dissolved to comprehension. The smile on the young woman's face was different from anything Yuuri had seen; it was sincere, content, and relieved, although every burden had left her shoulders. "Yuuri-sama, you're as kind as you're rumoured to be." Gratitude laced the timbre of her voice.

Yuuri blushed to the roots of his black hair. "Thank you."

Haruhiko's smile widened. She looked a bit like a child who was told that everyday of December is Christmas day. "Well, then, I should visit her later." After the statement was out, plates of delicacies were served under Yuuri's nose, and conversations ceased.

* * *

"Aren't you glad that you manage to escape?"

Ms. Charlotte looked up from the luggage she was placing her belongings into and was surprised to find her maid out of sight. The redhead decided to face her guest alone. "Is there anything I can help you with, Lady Marianne?"

* * *

Lunch ended peacefully. The Empress excused herself to pay her ailed lady-in-waiting a visit. Yozak dragged Murata away in the name of 'information-gathering'. Conrad, too, had asked permission to practise his swordsmanship.

The Royal Couple trudged down the corridors alone, just the two of them. Yuuri took large, flighty strides as he stretched, while Wolfram walked half-a-step behind, his face hidden behind the shadow of his fringe.

"Finally," the Maou stated, snapping his husband off his musings. Wolfram looked up to find Yuuri's head turned towards him, obsidian irises watching him intensely. "We can go home."

Again, time stood still for the two of them. Yuuri studied the male in front of him from the tip of his curly, silky, perfect golden hair, through his slender form, to his slim, strong legs. His own eyes pricked with tears when he caught the hurt, exhaustion and insecurities lodged in the blonde's expression, apparent through his hardest efforts to veil those feelings.

'_Is it wrong for me to not want to let you go, even though I'll only keep on hurting you, and hurting you?'_

In one precise, elegant swoop the clumsy Soukoku made a swift turn, his whole weight pivoted on one leg. Yuuri reached out for the prince's right hand and clasped it between his palms, bringing it close to his chin as he dropped to one knee.

The heat of Yuuri's skin burned his hand, his stare paralysing him. "Things will be different," the Maou promised. _'I'll stop pushing you away.'_

Too much remained unsaid.

'_For the better, or for the worse,'_ Wolfram thought as the sorrow he'd held back ultimately streamed out of his eyes, like a flood whose force could not be contained by the concrete walls of the dam anymore. "I know," he dropped to his knees, and sobbed as warm arms wrapped around him gently and pressed his face to the black fabric over his warm, flat torso. "I know."

* * *

"Ms. Charlotte?" Empress Haruhiko called out, mismatched eyes sweeping across the quarter, looking for details which might be amiss. The maid who had opened the door for her and Misao almost looked like she was avoiding the royalty's eyes, her movements slightly jumpy. Was something wrong, perhaps? "Ms. Charlotte?" she raised the volume of her voice.

"May be Ms. Charlotte's asleep, milady," her loyal grey-haired helper indicated at the prone body lying on the bed against the wall. "We should come again later," Misao suggested.

The Empress checked the unconscious lump and approached it nonetheless. "That can't be comfortable," Haruhiko commented on the odd foetal curl of the concubine's pose and reached out to roll the body around and tuck it under the blanket.

Once Ms. Charlotte was on her back, however, the trail of blood leaking out of the left side of her lips was exposed, along with a stab wound over her chest, where her heart was supposed to be.

"Milady-" Misao gasped, the both of them stepping back in shock.

Suddenly, the door to the quarter was blown in forcibly. The imperial army barged in, and surrounded the Empress from all sides, trapping her against the bed where the corpse lied, all soldiers raising the sharp points of their swords against the women. "Resistance is futile!" one of them barked when Misao jerked as though she was planning to run away.

"Your Majesty," the leader of the troop stated passively. "You are arrested for committing a first degree murder of Ms. Charlotte Williams. Anything you say will be used against you in the trial…"

TBC to…

Prisoner 02: Kranos

A/N: Did you think the story was over? No, not a chance mwahaha. I don't get to torture Wolfram yet Mwahaha. NO I'm NOT high!

I…didn't exactly regain the notion of 'love', but I had to consume diet pills recently, which rendered me to the emotional stability of a hormonal pregnant woman, and I managed to regain 'angst'. This wasn't exactly what I prayed for, but whatever…just be glad for the update.

Criticisms (worded politely, please) are welcome and greatly appreciated.


	12. Prisoners of Love 02: Kranos part 1

A/N: I would like to thank elcst for contributing an idea which made this chapter the drama it is now. The initial plan had been way, way simpler.

To Yuki-san: Well, thank you! Probably because I've been studying in Singapore for four years…It took a lot of effort to be where I am…I started off with terrible linguistic skills (my first fanfiction is no longer here because my first account had been deleted due to a…breach. This is my third account). Then lurking around Harry Potter fandom for about 2-3 years helps…the writers there are terribly talented: Plumeria, Abbadon, bananacosmicgirl, maya…they're no longer in there, but Anna Fugazzi, furiosity, lomonaaeren…they're just as good, if not better! I also like to use Encarta's thesaurus. As for the quick updates…well, I'm having my school break now. I don't stop eating the pills. I become hormonal and angsty because of the pills.

Prisoner 02: Kranos

Part 1

Multiple frowns appeared between the grey-haired pureblood Mazoku's brows as his dark blue eyes moved along the lines written on the parchment.

"Gwendal, don't be silent!" Gunter prodded the man seated behind his desk, rocking the chair from behind. "Do share what Yozak has to report to us in the letter!" the lilac-haired advisor pushed harder.

Gwendal fought against the nausea that was starting to form in his stomach, a vein throbbing on his temple. "It says Yuuri Heika plans to go home soon," he barked to make the other Mazoku stop.

"Oh, Heika!" indeed, Gunter left the 26th Maou's first son alone and began to twirl around the room in a bizarre dance, sprouting lines after lines of poetry. "I've missed thee! Mine eyes long to lie on thy beautiful form!" His eyes were sparkling.

"It also says," Gwendal raised his voice, overriding the Shin Makoku's equivalent of Shakespearean nonsense Gunter was reciting, "Yuuri Heika's bringing home an addition of a human Mistress." There was a small smirk of victory on the former prince's lips.

Inside, though, his mind was in turmoil.

"What? NOOO!" Gunter's voice could be heard by every occupant of Blood Pledge Castle. Somewhere, someplace, Lasagne dropped a couple of plates in shock. The lovey-dovey lines of literature transformed to woes of a jilted lover. "Heika, how can you betray me? Mine heart shatter at thy treachery!" Tears cascaded down his face like waterfall.

Through the hullabaloo of Gunter's theatrics, another dove entered the room through the open window and landed on Gwendal's shoulder. The Administrator provided the animal with treats while extracting another message from the box around its neck.

"Gunter, shut up," though his words were relatively soft-spoken, Gunter was at the other male's side in an instance. "What does it say?" the advisor asked.

"'_The plans have changed_,'" Gwendal read the news exactly as the sentence was written in hurried, barely legible scrawl. He frowned so hard the lines were sure to stay. "What's going on?" he exclaimed exasperatedly.

* * *

"Again?" Yuuri responded unthinkingly, too aghast to be courteous to the arrogant 'I-am-made-of-ice' Sir Anthony, chief of investigators. "Gee, you make it a habit to arrest your own Empress! What is it for, this time?"

The Maou had been looking for the mismatched eyed royalty during dinner to tell her that he wished to return to his kingdom at her earliest convenience, only to find such an important figure absent. He'd asked the servants about Yura-san's whereabouts only to be directed to the man whose face he'd wanted to sock for quiet some time.

"Haruhiko Yura had been arrested for committing a first degree murder of Ms. Charlotte Williams," the stoic man answered tonelessly, clearly omitting the former's title on purpose.

"Again?" Yuuri sighed dismissively after the word 'murder', only to freeze when the second name had been pronounced. "W-who's murdered?" he gripped Sir Anthony's shoulder.

"Ms. Charlotte Williams," the middle-aged human repeated. The scowl and the disgusted stare he directed towards Yuuri's palm on his flesh made the Demon King retracted his limb as the shock and a gaping sense of loss began to sink in.

"That's…impossible," Yuuri murmured vacantly, his mind filled with images of the young auburn-haired woman's face, how relieved she had seemed when she was told that he could protect her life, the brightness of the girlish chuckle she'd shown at his antics, how young she'd seem. She was just a _child_. Truth be told, Yuuri had felt queasy about how her presence in Shin Makoku would change the court, would change his life with Greta, his relationship with Wolfram, but he'd sworn to save her. He had.

And he failed.

Wolfram rubbed soothing circles on the Soukoku's back when it seemed like he was about to break down. "Calm down, Yuuri," he murmured.

"Yura-san couldn't have done it," Yuuri choked out to the conceited prick. The dark-haired friendly royalty had looked so, so happy when he'd informed her that he had decided to take the deceased with him. That unadulterated joy couldn't be faked. "Yura-san couldn't have done it!" he repeated, iron conviction in his voice.

"Haruhiko was found in the site of crime with Ms. Charlotte's corpse," Sir Anthony looked irked. "The stab wound was fresh. The diamond-studded hairpin that made the puncture hole was still embedded. She'd been caught red-handed."

"Yura-san hadn't been wearing any hairpin today!" Yuuri remembered, because a lock of her long hair had entered her bowl of soup. He remembered joking about it with her, because she had seemed to have forgotten some manners that lunch, so giddy was she. He was sure that Haruhiko's hair had been let loose.

"Haruhiko might have kept it in her pocket. In any case, only the Empress could have diamond-studded accessories," he was replied dismissively.

"It might have been stolen from her!" Yuuri argued, and reached out to hold the human's arm when Sir Anthony ignored him and turned to leave, swatting Yozak's arm which attempted to hold his King in place, the arrogant chief's preferences be damned. "Let me see Yura-san!" he commanded authoritatively. When he used that tone, no one could disobey him.

Sir Anthony, though not a citizen of the Great Demon Kingdom, was no exception. He eyed the band of supporters standing behind this foreign ruler, and spoke reluctantly. "Only one person is allowed to accompany you."

Conrad and Wolfram shared a look, and the former took a step back.

* * *

The dungeon was vastly different from the tower Haruhiko was previously trapped in. This row of prisons reeked of blood, vomit and other rancid bodily fluids Wolfram refused to even think about, the bars thick and narrowly spaced, the brick walls and floors grimy and unhygienic. There was not a single window in this hellish place, making it dim and suffocating. As the soles of his polished boots tapped against the ground, various prisoners turned to the two visitors, their eyes blank from despair and hopelessness, or they threw themselves to the bars, screaming, begging in blood-curdling voices, "Please release me! I didn't do it!"

Sir Anthony and the two soldiers who accompanied him ignored the pleas, and proceeded down dank corridors, prodding Yuuri on when his obsidian eyes were caught by the prisoners' desperate ones. Each time Wolfram nearly flinch and close his eyes, he strengthened his resolves. _'Don't be such a wimp! You were a soldier, damn it!'_

After a while, they reached a cubicle at the end of the passage. Wolfram recognised the colour of the long straight locks of the woman who had her back leaning on the bars, and so did his husband.

"Yura-san!" Yuuri rushed to kneel on the other side of the bar. "Yura-san, is that you?"

The woman turned to face her visitor. "Yuuri-sama!" The Empress looked immeasurably different without the finery she was usually swathed in, a coarse and dirty white knee-length cotton dress replacing her silky gowns, a wooden plank that acted as a handcuff replacing her bracelets. Her lips were dry and chapped, her hair in disarray, yet there wasn't a speck of fear in her green and amber eyes; there was only surprise. The woman must be sure beyond any doubt that she wasn't going to be executed.

_Or_, Wolfram's mind supplied itself, _she is used to this. After all, she did murder the late Empress Pamellia_.

All of a sudden, the blonde Prince was filled by an irrational urge to pull his husband as far away from the female prisoner as possible, the bars, the handcuff and the massive round iron weight chained to her ankle be damned.

"What are you doing here, Yuuri-sama?" The fire-wielder's musing was halted by Haruhiko's voice.

"You didn't do it, right?" Yuuri clasped her hands, which were gripping the bars tightly, and twined their fingers together. Wolfram had to suppress his instincts to tear them apart. "I need to see you. Please tell me you didn't!"

Her sleeves slipped down her arms when Yuuri tightened his hold around her, and revealed big stripes of red, angry gashes, purpling at the edges. The Maou gasped when his eyes fell on the bruises. "Yura-san?"

"I'm all right," she didn't recoil when her wounds were jostled against the metal bars, though the curl of his lips did turn to a grimace. "Misao…I had to make sure Misao is released. She doesn't deserve any of these," her chin moved slightly to point at the cramped, dirty cubicle, the misery draped over this place like a thick overpowering blanket.

"How about you, Yura-san? You don't deserve any of these either, right?" Yuuri leaned closer, to his husband's dismay. The Maou'd considered her his friend, a good friend, and so far, she'd never betrayed him like Sara had.

She lowered her gaze. "This ploy is targeting me, and Ms. Charlotte's caught in the misfire," when she looked up again, her mismatched eyes were glossy. "Her death's my fault," she breathed softly. "I'm sorry."

"No…" Yuuri whispered back, equally softly. "It's not your fault…"

The young ruler reached out one hand to touch her hair, but it was unexpectedly batted away. "Yuuri-sama, please leave Yekaterina for Shin Makoku as soon as possible," her tone was firm again, fiery determination dancing in the green and gold of her irises. "With me as the strongest supporter of the Alliance in prison, those who oppose the Mazokus will not hesitate to harm you. Just please, please, promise me." His one hand which was still joined to hers was squeezed, her eyes turned to beseeching. "Even if I perish, you will forge on with the Alliance, strengthen Shin Makoku's diplomatic relations with Yekaterina-"

"Maou Heika," Sir Anthony interrupted, his voice filled with contempt and repugnance. "Your time is up."

When Yuuri didn't comply, the two soldiers at his sides approached the Demon King and pulled him away from the bars.

Haruhiko held on tightly, her fingers clutching Yuuri's hand like a life line. "Please-" a bead of clear crystalline dropped from one eye, clearing the skin it treaded from dirt. "Take Miguel away with you!"

'_Prince Miguel?'_ Wolfram's mind reeled to the confrontation he'd eavesdropped yester-night, while he directed a scathing glare at the human soldiers who were rudely manhandling his husband. _'What has that clumsy youth got to do with all these?'_

One of the soldiers slapped the woman's hand with the handle of his sword and it promptly fell away. "Yuuri-sama!"

Yuuri turned his head as he was prodded to trail the path he came from. "I promise!" he hollered, two pairs of eyes locked in a contract. "I promise!" He wouldn't break this vow, not again.

* * *

Murata tapped his fingers on the wood of the table in the common room of their quarter in rhythm with Conrad's pacing. He was on to his hundredth tap when he sighed. "I used to be better at waiting."

"Which lifetime ago was that?" Yozak crossed his legs and leaned further on the arms behind his head.

"How do you do that?" The sage looked up in wonder at the ginger-haired spy, "how can you control your worries?"

"Practice," Yozak tilted his head to ease the cricks of his neck. "I've been in way, way too many imprisonments in my pursuit of truth, you know." He laughed it off when Conrad looked at the fellow soldier anxiously. "I'm still in one piece, Conrad. I prefer to have you look at me another way." He winked at Conrad, who blushed promptly.

A large brown bird flew across the room suddenly, dropping a small leather pouch to the spy's lap before perching on his shoulder, pecking his ear repeatedly. "I get it! I'll get your treat!" Yozak batted it and the bird cawed at the Mazoku angrily. The latter rummaged at his pocket and came up with various seeds and bits of cookies. "Here!" he threw them to the floor and grumbled as the poultry attacked its food.

"What is it?" Murata peered at the cuboid block Yozak had taken out from the pouch. Conrad, too, stopped walking around the room and moved behind the other half-Mazoku's chair.

"This…" he hid the object from a nondescript maid who passed by to chase the bird away. The three of them huddled over the golden block, which had the image of a double-headed snake coiled around a finger carved to one side. Yozak grinned victoriously. "It's a duplicate of the ticket to the Archive. It's finally done," he whispered.

Murata straightened his spine and returned to the couch behind the table. "So I take it you'll be off, then?"

"Yes," Yozak hopped to his feet. "Something's fishy about a certain Prince of Yekaterina," he stated after making sure that the maid was gone.

One black eyebrow rose. "The attractive, arrogant Alexander?"

"Nah," the muscular spy shook his head. "The maladroit Miguel."

When Yozak was followed on his way to exit the quarter, he turned to the swordsman. "Conrad, you're pants at acting. You better stay here to wait for our royal couple, and protect the Great Sage while you're at it."

The brown-haired male opened his mouth to protest, but he was already left alone.

"He's right, you know," Murata continued tapping the table. He offered the second son a consoling smile. "Just leave it to him. He's capable."

Conrad accepted the advice reluctantly.

* * *

Yozak peered at the one and only entrance to the Archive, the double door which, from prior research, told him would lead to a fireproof stone opening to the basement. All confidential and classified parchments and books were stored deep, deep underground, with houseki stones used to light the place to prevent any mishap with candle flames. The double door was guarded by a minimum of four imperial soldiers from the special force 24/7.

"It can't be wise to go there as 'Yozak Gurrier, an aristocrat from Shin Makoku'," The spy reflected. "What should I disguise myself as? A concubine or a maid?" (Innately a cross dresser, the thought of disguising himself as a soldier didn't cross his mind)

"Who is there?" one of the guards yelled. Yozak cursed himself for not being careful enough. After briefly checking that the room nearest to his hiding place around the corner was empty, the spy slipped in and locked the door, which was previously ajar. If possible, he'd like to avoid having to pretend that he was lost, because he might still be gathering some suspicion to himself.

The half-Mazoku pressed his ear on the piece on wood. He heaved a sigh of relief when the footsteps outside faded to nothingness.

Only after he was sure there was no threat of being discovered, Yozak inspected the room. From the various embroidered tapestries, the mirror on the vanity and the small amount of jewelleries in the box, the room must have belonged to a lower-rank concubine. The layout kinda resembled that of Ms. Charlotte's room…

Piqued by his curiosity, Yozak opened the cupboard. There were few pieces of clothes, the colour of the silk bright, bordering on gaudy. He took one out and placed it against his torso. "It's too small," he noted.

Yozak's ears perked when he picked up faint footsteps echoing down the hallway outside, the sound changing to a crescendo. The spy barely had himself safely tucked behind the openings of the wooden closet when the knob of the door to the bedroom creaked open.

Yozak was unpleasantly surprised when he glimpsed at the incomer from the narrow gap between the closet doors. A tall, leanly muscular man with long, lush dark blue hair and sharp amethyst eyes sauntered into the room, a quiet confidence emanating from his steps. He was followed by a maid who seemed vaguely familiar to the spy, and a willowy, extravagantly dressed blonde woman, who possessed the type of beauty that could stop a heavy traffic and turn heads. Yozak gave a low whistle. If he didn't already have a crush on…someone else (and innately gay), he would like to do her.

On second thoughts, the blonde kind of looked like Lady Cheri, so may be not.

The Emperor of Yekaterina plopped down one of the seats next to the circular table at the centre of the room and crossed his legs. "Place the box here," Kranos ordered the maid, who scurried to put the jewellery box like a timid rodent. It was clear that the mousy girl was hiding something.

The blonde concubine – a Superior Lady, judging from the rubies and emeralds of the hairpins lodged in her coiffure – was eying the box with such rapture. The box was indeed, exquisitely designed, with silver linings and pink stones filling the petals of the flowers growing on golden branches.

"Fascinated?" Kranos smirked at his wife when he caught the blush on her alabaster cheeks.

"It is beautiful, Your Majesty," he was replied, her chin held up proudly in the air.

"You have a good eye for fineries, I'd imagine," the square-jawed royalty chuckled briefly. The maid jumped at the sound. At the rate she was going, she would die of aneurism before the conversation was over, Yozak mused. "Do sit down, Marianne," Kranos gestured at the chair in front of him.

Only after her name had been spoken, Yozak recalled the woman who'd so woefully accused the Empress of attempting to murder Ms. Charlotte during lunch yesterday. She had been crying, then, her face secreted by the silk of her handkerchief, but Yozak could remember her voice.

The half-Mazoku thanked Shinou for this fortunate coincidence.

Lady Marianne stood her ground. "Your Majesty," she looked at him unswervingly. "I would like to know the purpose for my summoning." She was very clearly from a powerful noble family, her bearing a dead giveaway. She scanned the room with the expression of someone who was looking down at a back alley of a Ghetto, her nose scrunching in revulsion.

Kranos placed his elbow on the flat surface of the table and leaned his head on his hand languidly, like he had all the time in the world. "I have something…confidential to inform you," the line of his lips was seductively secretive. "And you know that my quarter, in spite of my most sincere wishes, is by no means _private_." He rolled his tongue at the last word, the tenor of his timbre smooth as chocolate melting in one's mouth. "People tend to avoid this area because no one wants to be caught loitering around the Archive." His eyebrow rose suggestively.

Lady Marianne's horribly pale skin revealed too much of her feelings. Her throat bobbed visibly before she lowered herself to the furniture, all the while never breaking the connection between her eyes and her Emperor's.

"Open the box," Kranos purred in satisfaction, gesturing at the expensive object with an elegant flick of his wrist. "It's a gift for you."

Lady Marianne reached out for the box, her manicured hands trembling. It took her a while to open the clasp in such a condition. She pulled the lid up slowly, reverently, and gasped when another object lying inside the small casket was revealed to her.

Yozak squinted and craned his neck, leaning his weight dangerously the closet doors almost creaked. The spy finally managed to catch a glimpse of the present when Lady Marianne launched herself to Kranos' embrace, saying "Thank you! Thank you so much!" over and over. He couldn't make out the details, but it seemed to be a hairpin, made of gold, lots and lots of small beads of glittering transparent crystals covering half its length, reflecting rainbow-coloured lights in every direction, so bright he shaded his eyes from their assault. The stones…they were diamonds.

TBC

A/N: I divided it to 2 parts because I'm evil.


	13. Prisoners of Love 02: Kranos part 2

A/N: I'm really, really, really, REALLY sorry about the lateness of the update. College is super duper demanding…and as a freshman I felt obligated to finish all assigned readings and homework…after 2 months of torturous hard work, I felt that my efforts aren't…yielding good results…I felt very stressed for a few weeks…then I came to the conclusion that I shouldn't care so much. I studied less, and devote more time to things I like to do…like writing this fanfiction XD

Without further ado…I present you more Kranos' evilness!! YAY!!

Prisoner 02: Kranos

Part 2

'…_only the Empress could have diamond-studded accessories.'_ Sir Anthony's words rang in Yozak's ears.

The spy's eyes widened to the size of a saucer.

"That is only proper," Kranos' voice sounded so distant. Lady Marianne, too, appeared to be moving at a slow motion to Yozak, as she sat back on the chair opposite to the ruler and brought the box to her lap before taking the pin out to admire it more closely…

Yozak's heart stopped beating at what he saw.

The other end of the hair pin was coated in a layer of dark crimson fluid.

Lady Marianne screamed and dropped her gift, rising to her feet so abruptly the box tumbled to the floor. The expensive silver linings were chipped, but nobody was paying attention to that. Before the concubine could flee, Kranos had already held her wrist in a firm, iron grip, strong fingers curled around the flesh, pressing painfully against the delicate bones. "After all, you are the Crown Prince's real mother," Kranos finished in a hiss.

Yozak's hand flew to his mouth.

"Your Majesty, please don't joke with me." The blonde woman squirmed futilely and whimpered, large eyes pleading at her husband. "My son is Miguel, not Alexander."

"Could you not recognise the pin you'd stolen from Yura to frame her?" Kranos ignored the lies uttered by the mother of one of his sons and pushed her further away from the only exit in the room, cornering her to the bed against the wall. Her knees were forced to bend when they hit the edge of the mattress. "Or you completely left the dirty works to your subordinates?" Kranos continued sinisterly as he captured the other wrist. "That's so like you," he sneered.

Lady Marianne was trapped between one of the poles of the four-poster, and the ominous form of the man whose commands were the laws of her Empire. "Your Majesty, I don't know what you're talking about," she avoided his piercing stare, before biting her rouged bottom lip, one slender leg slipping out of the slit of her gown and riding up his leg, the tip of the soft leather of her shoe rubbing against the fabric that covered his calf.

Kranos laughed at her poor attempt at seduction. He dislodged her feet with a jerk of his leg and imprisoned her long lower limbs between his knees. Lady Marianne wasn't able to move at all.

"I have to thank you for getting rid of Charlotte, though," the Emperor loomed over the terrified, skittish form of his wife, who was beginning to realise that she was completely under his mercy, and spoke to her ear, his breath stirring the fine hairs behind the shell. Marianne began to quake visibly. "If I let that Demon King take Charlotte away, Yura's plans would have succeeded. Well, I guess I was at fault for taunting him that way…" He extricated himself from her, but the couple were still merely inches apart. "I guess the Maou isn't as much as a wimp as I initially thought. I underestimated him." Kranos chuckled.

"Then…" Lady Marianne looked relieved, Yozak noted. It was easier to see her expressions from his vantage. All he could observe of Kranos was his back. She must have thought that she would get off lightly, considering Kranos' gratitude for her hand in the matter.

"I won't forgive you for trying to get rid of Yura," the Emperor dashed the blonde woman's hopes, just like that. From the strangled high-pitched yelp that escaped Lady Marianne's lips, Kranos had tightened his grip around her hands. "Do you seriously think that I will make you an Empress?

For a split second, Kranos released the woman's wrists and lunged for her collar. Lady Marianne scrambled to her feet, but the Emperor was formerly a soldier, who'd practically spent his days as Crown Prince patrolling and captaining battalions in wars. His reflexes surpassed hers by far.

The Emperor shoved the concubine to the bed, his hands enclosing her neck. Yozak could see the both of them now, Kranos straddling her lap, abhorrence teeming from his manic face. That moment, Yozak no longer superposed him to Shinou, because Kranos appeared far, far more menacing. "Why did you want to get rid of Yura? Do you think that you have a chance of ever being an Empress?"

"A-ah-" Lady Marianne choked out, before shaking her head frantically, her eyes those of a rabbit hunted down by a wolf.

"No?" Kranos reduced the pressure around her nasal passage and descended towards her. Dark blue strands tickled the skin of her exposed shoulders, curtaining parts of their faces from Yozak. "Then…" mockery was apparent in his tone, "you did it out of revenge? You hate Yura for threatening you to swap your baby with Pamellia's, condemning you to be the 'Mother of that good-for-nothing, sorry excuse of a prince', and letting Pamellia steal the glory for being the 'Mother of that brilliant, beautiful Emperor-to-be'?"

Yozak took a deep, deep breath, and thanked Shinou, again, that he was already seated. His knees wouldn't be able to hold at the startling epiphany. The intrigues of Yekaterina's court baffled him. It struck him how wise Shinou had been, to have laid the foundation for Shin Makoku's monarch, shielding it from such complicacies. ('Because he was a simple-minded warrior,' Murata would have retorted)

Lady Marianne had the 'deer-caught-in-the-headlights' look on. "How do you know?"

Kranos threw his head back and barked his laughter, the sound pulling Yozak's attention back to the scene. "You had been such a good instrument," he was shaking in mirth. "Too obsessed with your own petty pride to ever question yourself why things were running…" the Emperor paused dramatically, "_too_ smoothly."

"The ease of obtaining such a rare, toxic ingredient obscurely," Kranos counted, folding his fingers one by one as each factor was listed, "the ease of stealing a diamond-studded hairpin without Yura ever realising and how easy it had been to get the servants to join your life-threatening conspiracy."

The man turned to look at the other side, showing his back to the closet and when the timorous maid entered Yozak's limited view, the spy realised Kranos was summoning her. "This maid used to belong to Charlotte. Do you not recognise her?"

The pieces of puzzle fitted together. That maid had been Kranos' ears and eyes. No wonder Yozak felt that she was so familiar.

Lady Marianne was so red in the face, her stare indignant…and a tad bit embarrassed. "You betrayed me," she accused the small, rodent-like girl, who flinched at the concubine's words as though she'd been splashed with acid.

Kranos laughed contemptuously. "She would be betraying me if she were to be loyal to you, Marianne." When the odium in the noble lady's glare exacerbated, the Emperor's sneer widened. "Marianne…Marianne," Kranos sang her name in travesty, "You can't expect a donkey to climb a mountain without dangling a juicy carrot to its face."

The blue-haired ruler gave a 'come-hither' look at the maid, and jerked his chin, a clear non-verbal order for her to come even closer. It was obeyed with small, shaking steps until Kranos could lay one of his hands on her shoulder. "For her devotion to me, I've promised her this room and the title that goes with it. From now on," he shifted his amethyst gaze back to the blonde woman trapped beneath him, "she will be a Lady of Grand Harmony." The ruler announced with a flourish.

Any struggle died after the declaration, every line of tensions melting as Marianne dropped her hands to her sides. The beautiful concubine's face was frozen in a state of horrification for a while before she took a deep, shaky breath. "You're going to ruin this empire." The noble spoke, her voice monotonous and bleak, her violet eyes dulling, deprived from even a spark of hope.

"Ruin the old ways you're so proud of, yes," seeing that he had beaten every resistance out of his wife and taught her a lesson not to mess with him, the Emperor extricated himself from the woman. "But I'll never, never ruin this empire," he brushed down imaginary lint off his clothes and looked down at her with contempt and arrogance, his thin lips curled to the left.

Marianne rolled away and curled to a foetal position, hiding from the humiliating smirk. "What now?" her question was muffled against the palms pressed against her face. "Are you going to apprehend me…?"

"That was the plan," the Emperor turned to make his leave. He told the maid-turned-concubine to exit the room. The rodent-like girl seemed immensely relieved at the command; she darted outside in no time. "However…" Kranos trailed, a pair of sharp, knowing amethyst eyes fixing on the closet Yozak was hiding in.

The ginger-haired spy froze. He was so tense he couldn't breathe, didn't want to move even a fraction of an inch. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream, his heart thudding harder under his ribcage.

The half-mazoku didn't want to think of the ramifications of being caught.

Lady Marianne reacted to the long-drawn silence. "However…?"

The smirk on the Emperor's face spread slowly, silkily. The expression on the human's face was so, so evil it was ironically demonic. "Since you've set this wonderful stage for me," he ruffled her hair, mussing the sunny locks so thoroughly as though the woman was not his wife but his pet, his dog. "I shall use it to thoroughly shatter what my dear Yura had been trying to accomplish by inviting that wimpy king here…and spare you for now. But," Marianne cried when he yanked on the blonde locks. "Don't ever try anything again." He hissed.

Kranos pulled the noble up and dragged her to the door, kicking her out of the room. Just as Yozak released the pocket of air he'd been holding in his chest, the Emperor stopped the door from closing with his forearm.

"I wonder if your blonde…" the man turned his face halfway and raised his voice, "is as fun to torment."

Yozak's heart stopped beating. Again.

TBC to part 3

A/N: I'm cutting it again not because I'm evil…but because I can only give you this much now. I'm sorry…


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